JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

From somewhere beyond

came the wind

high from arctic wastes

a fierce jagged wind

that belched dark clouds

in rushing waves

across the land

banging against the shutters

blanketing the flying moon

pulling black tarpaulin

over shreds of stars

shaking last leaves

from outstretched trees

 

Exhausted by the wind

we battened down

pulled blankets over ears

slept at last and woke

to find a silent world

white on white

and cotton limbs

where leaf shivering trees

had stood last night