Weather Song
The wind has a banshee call
Every Fall,
It whines and wails and never fails
To sing insane outside my wall.
The wind has a searing sound
Come to pound,
Upon my ears as winter nears,
It whips unwilling leaves to ground.
But I love its lonesome cry:
Wind and I
Are friends till death, when wind’s shrill breath
Will sing my passing to the sky.
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