Wind of Discontent
There's a westerly wind that sweeps down the shore
Riding roughshod, through the furrowed maze
Plowing the seas with a lofty oar
To justify each thrashing wave
Unwilling to pulse with calmer mood
Her temperament bodes malcontent
Unrelentingly, earnest, she herds her brood
And prods them along with grave torment
Rendering helpless, behind the spray
The sun watches with solemn round
While quivering waters define dismay
She holds long the seasonal sound
From the sphere of the dawn, into bold afternoon
She is schooled by the whims of the moon
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9/15/13 For Poetess Darkly's Contest: "Sonnets of the Wind"
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