Storm! by A.B.McLeod

[trinkie]

STORM !
By A.B.McLeod
c. 1950

Storm! – and the wind in the chimney –
Wild as the voices of birds –
Keening and crying their lone plea,
Wailing a song without words.

Storm! – The sea swells in its prison,
Swiftly it bursts with a roar –
Crashes and shouts in derision,
Smoth’ring the rocks on the shore.

Storm! – and the spray breaks and towers
High on cliff’s black face,
Thrilling and trembling in showers,
To fall and rejoin the race.

Storm! – and the driftwood and seawrack,
Tossed up and flung on the beach,
Restlessly follows the waves track –
Under and up – out of reach.

Storm! – and the river protesting –
Swollen and brown from the streams,
Dashes and foams in its questing,
Rushes – forgetting its dreams.

Storm! – and the night turns to morning ,
Grey – like a torn veiled wreath.
The east blushes red in the dawning,
Here in this lovely Dunbeath.