Ninety kph winds this morning, the Weather Office issued a warning for motor cycles not to use the Sorell Causeway
The howling wind
Tunnels through the town
Ripping leaves off trees
Ripping petals off blooms
Tumbling, rambling, dust
And litter and streets signs
Creaking and moaning in complaint.
The traffic lights sway
In the face of the howling wind.
Far off in the distance
From the top of the small hill
I can see white cap tumult
Of the wind assaulted lagoon.
The howling wind hurries me along
Lashing my hair around my face
Billowing my shirt. Dust rises
And eeks across the face
Of my young daughter.
Days like this I am happy
For a few extra kilos
Keeps me grounded.
So I am not swept up
Dorothy wise to another world.
.
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