---

The wind is in charge of the dark tonight only stone walls can resist the flight.
No whistles nor howls the sound is a force tracked by isobars.
Only the slightest differences in pressure turns us and once summer strong branches into beings weak and frail.
While poly-bags flap as a shredded sail as ghosts on trees as refugees caught on barbed wire fences keeping out nothing.
Water submits to chaos but the satellite image shows ordered clouds round a vortex,
Unseen from the view of our window.
We return to bed safe in a power cut and listen to the indifferent rage.