Wake-up call

The west wind has nagged
         through the night
it has howled and whined
         and whipped the rain
into a frenzy
         subsiding now and then
only to return with a vengeance

The ferocious March wind
         that rattles doors
and rocks fences
         that pores over structures
searching for looseness
         for the slightest imperfection
for whatever may be torn
         from its bed and thrown
down to the ground

The bravado of rain and wind
         a rule unto itself
defiant and disdainful
         of all who sleep
a loud mouthy leveller
         it has uttered its call
throughout the dark night
         while the moon stood by
and the earth was unmoved

And yet it means nothing
         it is a process that will pass
a depression that will lift
         and the lovers that it wakes
in the early hours
         listen a while before turning
on their sides and dismissing
         its empty bluster with a kiss

John Lyons