the tips of the ebonies
beckoned oaks to the east,
the trinkets of aspens along the porches
flickered their myriad of vivid faces in fleet
the peeking twinkles amongst the rough stalks
a low howl rose from the foliage of the woods,
the spruces swished in the rising wind.
it came in gusts, with light rocking breezes amid.
as it increased in strength the lulls shortened in length
there was a strong and sturdy waft all the time,
violent puffs at intervals,
sudden spinning currents.
prancing insects, praying preys
dancing to the lulls fading
the billows stretched over the valley, rolling promptly and low,
twilight washed out into a sweeping darkness.
then the singing of the wind in the caves started
masked the swift roar of rustling leaves;
then the song engorged to a mourning, grousing yowl;
with the gathering power of the wind the yowl tainted to a shriek.
note: just my random thoughts in squggiles...