SQUALL

The grey skies are stormy and wild,
Strong winds gust and batter the land,
Rain carried by the squall
Peppers the windows like gravel
And stings the faces of the unfortunate traveller
God protect those caught abroad
On such a foul day as this
The winds whistle round the buildings
And make rag dolls of the trees
Being inside looking out is preferable
Warming by the fire with glass in hand
Loved ones safe about you
Ride out the storm in comfort
Until the stormy gales subside