WINTER WIND

                    WINTER WIND

                         Joe Turner

I hear the moan and wail of the blowing wind. 

Shadows of trees wrestle for space on a moon lit wall.

 I am restless. Aimlessly I shuffle to the window. 

Below, wisps of dry brown leaves dart and

 scudder across the wind hardened snow.

Fragile ghosts of green summers past-