The wind blows free in my valley
Bending giant trees to her will.
Sometimes from the north, such anger spews forth
That even the sun feels her chill.
Clouds scurry around to obey her
In fear she’ll devour them as well.
In her primal pain, she lures gentle rain
To join in her demonic spell.
In moments, fury abated,
Reverting to sweet-tempered breeze,
So mellow and light she seduces night
And vamps bright daybreak with her tease.
Won no. 3 in contest
Copyright © Joyce Johnson