Well Versed In The Weather

Skies from rusty iron
To steel blue rolled across the day,
Filled with cloud chimeras which
Baffled my eye with prophecies
And unsung myths.

I wondered at the frost writing
Etched upon the window in Chines characters,
Until I saw the angry cloud line
Invade on the heels of the shrieking wind.

With unbridled fury, it tore clouds
To fluttering rags of blue and white and grey.
Trees, even fence posts, genuflected before the gale.
The mindless wind howled
Displeasure gusting to anger,
Causing ice crystals to scurry
Over the ice-crusted snow
Hissing like a thousand roaches
Fleeing the light.

Who can argue with an angry wind?
After all,
A blizzard is a time for rest.