A Summer Storm

Banished to a windswept isle

Last night I woke overcome

By an approaching storm

Wind had taken full possession

Of the surrounding trees

Which danced with abandon

As the voices of ten thousand

Restless souls clamored

To be heard if only a proper

Means of transcription

Could be found

Near at hand

Sitting up straight

Hollow reed that I am

The wind played

All of my stops

A swirling symphony

With as many layers

As a wedding cake 

Yet resistant to any

More definite form

Painting by Antônio Parreiras