Again the wind is speaking

again the wind is speaking as
I rush to my daughter’s bedroom
her sleeping head, all but covered,
except for a small opening
for my child does not hear the rumbling
above the rooftop as the trees swing
in their moods of contemplation
there are no changes, my eyes are calmer
but the wailing continues outside
and my fear is climbing again
to the bundle under the covers
where my daughter lies sleeping, sleeping
the horses neigh in rude abandonment
while the barn door claps and claps on
cautiously, mice hide easily under the straw
left carelessly by the piglets feet
and the big oak at the front of the house
bends over as I prayer for a reprieve from the
howling wind as my beauty lies sleeping, sleeping
through-out … the storm continues to brew outside
away from my daughter’s haven
of sweet dreams and candy cane wonders
dancing to the excited imaginations
of her pending womanhood
she lies so innocently …sleeping, sleeping
as only a small child could.

Juanita Tice Paulino