Chilly Night

A chilly wind blows tonight, with stiff lips, whistling a dirge down the dark, empty glen Clouds hover in an apple-crisp night sky Thin, streaming clouds, stingy clouds Smoke from a fat little house, painted gray, streams like banners in a circus show ring Pussy willows shiver in sweaters, too thin Ducks across the moon flying shadows Their moonlit wing become brushes painting swaths over restless, empty spring meadows Wind is a chorus of devils singing, spitting breath across all that sleep in peace Only when the rising sun melts the sky will stillness come and relentless wind cease, greeting the morning with a hollow sigh