This storm has a name
All night long the wind howled over the hill,
Voice of a thousand creatures raging, grieving.
Fury beyond answer, this end of world
Wolf wail to bring down trees, take roof
And power, take sleep and shelter.
All petty triumphs, bragged by day
Are thin sheets about the body, penetrated
By a wind that stops for nothing,
Cares for nothing but its own force.
Keening a lullaby to oblivion,
Promising no tomorrow.
Druid Life 