© Riley Prescott
Listen to the Poem
Awake at night;
A wind whispers softly through the bedroom window.
A sudden spite;
A shiver runs down my spine as the wind blows
A weary caller;
A warning of things that could be.
The night is alive…
The warning, an unturned key.
Then with a bolt,
The uneasiness ceases to dwell.
All is calm.
The Wind Watcher calls that all is well.