These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Winds Blowing

Through the trees low sounds of wind.
Status yet unknown.
Swaying limbs, trunks that rend
with lives forever flown.

"Survivor's Guilt" along the Eastern Coast,
while islands fair not well?
Ofttimes the storms do make their boast.
Our ears hear the sad song's knell.

Our hands be tied to stop the 'cane
near one thousand miles away,
but pray we now, then pray again
to spare their nights 'til day.

Soft rumbling winds their presence known,
reminding of the blast
of awful winds as islands groan,
while the storm its hours last.

The winter comes. The seasons change
as Judgment nears our Time.
Will God's Wind seem so very strange
'tween Hell and Life Sublime?

by Jay O’Toole
on October 28th, 2025