Windy Days Inspired by weeks of continual winds battering the house and trees at the foot of the garden.

21/2/02

The World is weeping for the trees
and the long lost land of honey bees,
it blows so hard to rattle our houses
where we hide like timid church mouses.

The World is weeping for the trees
and the smell of Nature lost to the breeze.
Strident and earnest it bangs on the door,
a last chance, before there is no more.

I sit weeping for the trees
and all the possible worlds of maybe's.
In lulls of quiet I can hear the World's knock,
but I fear it is too late, we have run amok.