The wind

# 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.


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