Steel Wind Coming

A thin wind to begin with,
Faint wailing, like a siren,
A passenger jet failing
To maintain altitude far off,

Then a little huskier,
More throat in the voice, closer,
And you think of all the times
You’ve braced yourself for anger

From a predictable source
With unpredictable twists.
Likely, this time will be worse.
The wind’s enough of a roar

To portend or to pretend
An actual, coming storm.
Difficult to tell with wind—
Can blow all night for nothing.

Or can lead in the great storm
Talked about generations.
Which one is this?
It has curl in its throat

And has grown loud everywhere
In the neighborhood. The roar
Is constant now, imminent,
Wind tunneling through itself.

This wind is targeting. How
A wind targets anything
Is impossible to say.
This wind grows conscious today.