<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415977" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Winter Westerlies</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Leaning against the wind across the paddock ways<br>comes Dan home with forward stoop like a man bent and old,<br>clashes the door in haste as one pursued: 'By Christ, it's cold!'<br>and crooks his fingers to the blaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We do not live these days, but each exhausting day<br>unnerved we numbly wait return of life, and must abide<br>the wind, the still beleaguering wind; all voices else outside<br>imperioulsy it has blown away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Over the bronze-brown paddocks the grass is bowed flat down;<br>along the birdless creek a cold malevolence has passed;<br>a forlorn sparrow clings on the fence against the icy blast,<br>his soft breast feathers loosely blown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We watch the saplings buffeted without repose,<br>their foliage all on one side, plunging without rest,<br>stems leaning all one way from the assailing west,<br>bending as backs cower from blows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hunched cattle no longer feeding dejected stand<br>with dumb endurance, tails to the flogging wind hour after hour;<br>from some far frozen hell of winds a blind and souless power<br>invades and harries all the land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Wind! The Wind! It fumbles at the fastened panes,<br>fills, and posseses all, a tyranny without control;<br>ceaseless, changeless, malign, searching into the very soul,<br>the rushing desolation reigns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Martin+Devaney">James Martin Devaney</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415977" data-title="Winter Westerlies de James Martin Devaney" data-description="Leaning against the wind across the paddock ways comes Dan home with forward stoop like a man bent and old, clashes the door in haste as one pursued: 'By Christ, it's cold!' and crooks his fingers to the blaze. We do not live these days, but each..."></div> </div> </div>

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