A poem I wrote just then within a 5 minute free writing exercise, based around a predefined starter and the recent storm of the century in Sydney, Australia.
Storm of the Century
The wind in the window saying soft gestures
between the curtains as gusts flow gently
and later ramp up to a powerful push,
of what could be easily mistaken as willpower.
The forecasts report the offshoot
of “the storm of a century”,
across the ditch,
yet this century it will not be known as so, to us.
All night and now all day,
that wind continues to pound the trees
strongly rooted within the depths of the earth.
Those tall and shorter trunks succumb to the pressures
and outlast time, which continues on.
Birds take flight only to be blown along
their path as the howling continues.
Where were they going?
Perhaps their destination has now changed
and their journey becomes undecided
as they fight with their wings as swords.
The wind will stop eventually,
and so will the rain
to reveal blues skies transient,
as one may then call out in favour
of the bright weather,
while another may miss the departure
of that energetic breese.