Mad Wind

a haiku

*Audio voiceover will be available February 10, 2026

                                                       One million cold winds
                                                       are shaking the window
                                                             imprints of winter.

                                                                  Ghosts:
                                                        rattle the branches
                                                        howling at the moon.

Mad Wind

Along with the rush of faucet water over my soapy hands, my heart beat from my chest when I heard the distinct howl of a million wolves. Or could it be the large sweeping broom of a witch midair? I don’t know, but the vibration rattled our door, so I peeked through the blinds and there—

Trees were being choked, bent, and thrashed by something. They bent at IT’S will.

Then I looked below and saw the standard patch of snow with little imprints of children’s shoes from the day before. Their chorus of “Red light, green light!” Echoed in my memory. I closed the blinds, then opened them wider to let in the insistent sunlight.

It was the wind.

I knew this.

Just the wind.

The wind sometimes sounds like the moans of the woman next door when her dry spell is over.

The wind, at times, sounds like wolves baying at the moon.

Or the flap of the witch’s cloak.

It can even snap the “necks” of branches, but when the wind is nice, it whips my hair. It whips clouds like ice cream into puffs of dragons and scientific wording, “Stratus Clouds”.

It’s a balm on those blistering days coming up in Virginia summers.

Today it was mean though.

Mad wind.

Thank you for reading!

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