Was it the combination of wind and bitter cold
Causing the trees to be so vociferous
Nary another creature was out in the bitter cold
Just myself, and the cold winds’ susurrus

The talk of the trees was all death and pain
Like Halloween in and old groan
There was something eerie in the winds refrain
And perhaps a touch sinister in its tone

Undaunted I trudged on thoughts far from home
Underfoot, the shrill scratchy sound of snow
Point and counterpoint, feet and wind, and I far from home
While the voices on the wind sought to bring me low

But my thoughts were set far and away
Then as if the wind had a sudden epiphany
It swept up a blustery cacophony of what it had to say
I clutched my collar against the onslaught I could not see

The wind fell off; the trees first quiet, then silent
I went on, contemplating; just what fight I had fought
My lips were pressed in quiet lament
On how debating the wind comes to naught