Some poetry

The great wind blows,
At night,
The storm settles in,
And cancels flights,

The great wind echoes,
Through the walls,
Of an old apartment building ill equipped for the brutal storm,
And sends chilling drafts through the halls,

The great wind chimes,
The trees,
As they sway and the branches sing,
And the icicles fly every-which-way like prisoner's set free,

The great wind whistles,
Through the windows,
Of an abandoned building,
And now filled with over-grown thistles,

Can you feel it?
Are you listening?
Can you see it?
Can you hear?

Please check my other blog posts for my symbolic related views, and other random posts!