Wind of Change

The wind is howling past my window.
It whistles as it passes through the trees,
It whips their branches to a frenzy,
Picks up dead leaves and puts them far away.

Insinuates itself in little gaps and crannies.
What's not securely held gets worried loose,
Picked up, moved on, distributed to elsewhere.
The landscape's changed from what it was before.

The wind dies down and everything is still.

Why is it I am watching through the glass?
The world's not real when seen through one of those.
Get out, stand willingly in way of storms
And feel the wind as it blows through and past me.

Dead leaves are only clutter in my soul
What's loose is best detached and blown away
To leave me cleansed and give me room to grow.
The landscape's changed from what it was before.

The wind dies down and everything is still.