Pareidolia

The breath of breeze grows shrill and births a song as racing billows crowd the edge of skies; upon their nimbus brows a face forlorn and in its midst the flash of angry eyes. Percussion pounds the walls and taps the snare, reverberation echoes all around, while swept within its breath, a sultry air whose mournful moans within the din abound. But then a quiet quells the tumult's roar, as silent cirrus feathers drift on high where wistful thoughts are dreamt and eagles soar among the clouds where children's wishes fly. No sunset's slip nor rainfall rhythm heard could feign escape when poet's muse is stirred.