More than a murmur.
More than a whisper.
The trees dance frenetically in its sway.
I long for it to calm that I may be lulled to sleep by such susurrous song.
Alas, it seems not so.
Its anger calls at me through the open window; I have no desire to close it.
But the creaks and moans of its passage become almost too much to bear.
Still I bide my time, hoping for the anger to subside.
It could be a long night.