The wind’s like a dog who howls at the door.

It scratches the paintwork with an impatient paw.

    It’s boisterous, it’s noisy and relentlessly whines.

    We’ve always kept dogs, so I know all the signs.


I try not to listen but hear a loud bark.

I know it’s the wind who’s alone in the dark.

     It seeks human company, as dogs do as well,

     As they work on we humans a magical spell.


I turn up the tele, put fuel on the fire,

And hope that the wind will eventually tire.

     But he blows down the chimney and rattles the panes

     With his cunning accomplice, the pattering rain.


Then suddenly, like magic, his bellowing din

Goes quiet when he knows that he cannot come in.

     So I ask you one question:  What does he do?

     Why - he takes his loud howling and tries it on you!



Copyright on all my poems

Weather Poems Secondary Schools Listening Page Skype Visits Heading Mr Wind Oh Wicked Wind



By Josie Whitehead