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There's Nothing In The Night Like The Sound Of The Wind

When all the land is sleeping tight
There is a noise within the night
A noise to touch the sinews of your mind.
To those who hear it at it's best
Exalt its sound, as others rest,
And thank the Lord he gave it to mankind.

She hums and blows her gentle breezes,
Comes and goes just as she pleases,
Spreads pastoral verses as her theme;
And when the twilight fills the air
Her vivid strains are ever there
For anyone who worships her esteem.

Her voice caresses mighty trees,
Bends their limbs with awesome ease,
Oaks submit and beeches stand-a-quiver.
She shakes their leaves when passing through,
Sings a chorus just for you,
A symphony of joy to make you shiver.

At times when anger can prevail
She tests her strength and blows a gale
She proves the very essence of her skill.
She fans her substance all around,
Her lusty bluster so profound,
She punishes the ground with all her will.

But she knows it's daylight soon
So then she sings a different tune
And bestows a temperate ballad clear and bright;
And when the darkness leaves the earth
She whistles warm for all she's worth;
There's no sound like the wind makes in the night.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
Reading Gracy's wonderful poem 'In The Wind' reminded me of when I was very young (short trousers young) and the summer nights I spent sleeping in the hay loft with the horses down below. Climbing the ladder up there was, to me, like ascending Jacob's ladder ~ I was in heaven. The wind would howl around the rafters and slam and bang the shutters. People would ask me if I was frightened in the dark of the windy night and I used to say "Frightened of what?". So here's to you, Gracy, for reminding me of those days when I didn't have a care in the world and my compliments to all at Neo, kind regards Alan.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


An ode to the wind, and just lovely done,
I remember the winds of 86 I shall never forget the sound that night, from my home in london nor the wreck it left, but saying that a nice summer breeze here in Tuscany can be just perfect. What a lovely poem, tomorrow we will have high winds here as the weather changes to be cold.
Kudos to you and to gracy for the inspiration, we all need it from time to time.

Thank you...Teddy

1986 and the destruction caused in the south of England. I missed it though as I was in Lipica, Yugoslavia (now Croatia) at the Spanish Riding School's stud farm. I kept up with the news though and saw trees fallen all over. You can't prevent the blowing of the wind therefore you may as well enjoy it. Hold on to your hat today Teddy.

Critique is a compliment
Kind regards, Alan

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