The same gusts that fell old elm limbs inland are responsible, when they meet the sea, for some of the most dramatic stories published in the local newspapers. She shakes the glass And ruins sleep. Her voice is deep. In farmer's yards. She lifts night birds, She utters words.
Sailors play cards Or grunt or smoke.
In barns, lambs cry. She gallops by And twists the oak. Her breath fogs panes. Clouds fly, seas swell. The moon is still.