The wind picked up the other night.
I thought for a moment it was a train,
because the ground shook slightly and
there was the low familiar rumble I know with my eyes closed.
The wind came in slow waves and was a sign the weather has changed.
Winds no longer mean thunderstorms and breezes after hot afternoons.
They mean cold fronts and wind chills.
The wind picked up the other night.
I stood in a hallway in the dark and waited for awhile for it to ease.
A half moon shone through a western window
with no clouds to obscure its blue light.
Only the tree limbs, swaying in the breeze:
Weary dancers, out too late.