The Voices In The Wind

by Alfie Arthur

Stumbling to the horse-field – walk not his way,

All was quiet, not a horse made a bray-

Then suddenly – what once was a cold winter’s breeze

Came a shrilling of wind, attacking the trees.

 

He blew all around, the wind in his blood,

Then slipped on the ground, and drenched in mud.

Still as a stick, he lay down, face down –

And voices rang out from his head, now stool-brown.

 

Was it his mind, or was it ever real?

He could not make it out, for the wind had to steal –

It was the sound of a girl, coming from the shed!

It came louder and clearer, “Help me!” it said.

 

“Help me,” again, loud and pure.

“I’m coming!” yelled the boy, of that he was sure.

“Oh, somebody, somebody, o’er here. Please!”

This time it came lower, with a cough and a wheeze.

 

He walked closer, slowly, like a spy in disguise,

As he noticed the girl, he was hit by surprise!

The girl was his sister – no, couldn’t be –

He stared, long and hard. Was it really his Bea?

 

“’Tris?” he asked, in a state of distress.

“How is it you’re in such a blusterous mess?”

The girl replied, with a heart of hope,

“I was washing my horses, with the best of my soap.”

 

“Then what,” replied he, eager to hear;

She came closer, until he decided to near.

“A gale forced me in, and I fell in the manger!

Then I saw a man, a hooded old stranger.

 

“He asked me my name – and I got up with a stare,

He took off his hood, so to give me a scare!

His hair was like that of a squirrel’s, his eyes were two pools of cess!

His mouldy, tawny shirt was in wrinkles! His breeches, Oh, what a mess!”

 

The boy ventured deeper, into the stables of dark,

Then a drop came of water, and the boy yelled, “Hark!”

Felt a hand on his shoulder, and stumbled, fell back,

Then saw a face, and was captured up by the black.

 

“He asked me my name – and I got up with a stare,

He took off his hood, so to give me a scare!

His hair was like that of a squirrel’s, his eyes two pools of cess!

His mouldy, tawny shirt was in wrinkles! His breeches, Oh, what a mess!”

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