Poems about the Wind

Wind Blow, Autumn Tall Grass
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'Tis the breath of the gods the ancients said
Exhaled when they were mighty well fed
To push the sailing ships cross the seas
Or spoil the sport by killing the breeze

But we are so much smarter of late
We don't attribute the winds to fate
We watch the weather folks point at charts
And look to the maps at least in parts

When pressure is high at some place hither
And pressure is low at some place thither
The winds will flow from high to low
And buffet about the trees or snow

At exceptional times the force of a gale
Might jettison objects that could impale
Or otherwise wreak havoc on a large scale
Set us back 100 years should the power fail

Ah, I rather like the gentle winds that come
When I'm basking on the beach in the sun
The ones that bring the salty sea smell
Pleasant, drifting thoughts, the truth I tell

The zephyr blows through the dust strewn plain
And a tumbleweed dances across the view
At one time there lay acres of grain
But the stark landscape now offers a dreary hue

This wind is lighter than the whipped and wild
That carried sand and grit with blinding force
But life requires more than this relative mild
The wind needs bring water from the heavens' source

Wind-Jammers Coming Up Channel on a Flowing Sea and before a Fast Following Wind, 1914-19
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To harness the winds one needs the mills' blades
Or ships' sails on the ocean with the winds of trade
Now, pivot the grand turbines on the wide prairies
Taking some land used by cattle and dairies

The Chinooks gust over the Colorado hills
Weak trees in the path will give way
Perhaps new fodder for the lumber mills?
Nay, yet the strong winds will blow today

On power lines; roofs, snapped branches take their toll
I get a headache from the relentless bluster
Blown tarps, shingles, a million leaves on parole
Getting through productively is all I can muster

Dancing like a top the cyclone spins
Tightly coiled, direction aimless
Watching townsfolk on needles and pins
Would like to hold this twister blameless

It sucks up all detritus from the earth
Which it spirals up to be rocket flung
Across fields, in the rain drenched dearth
Projected missiles, unwary objects stung

When pressure high & pressure low collide
The fearsome menace thus produced
Accepts no wisdom to defray its ride
So pray to rubble not the town reduced