Delving into Poetry

One of my goals for my writing class is to push the envelope a bit, so to speak, and take a risk in my writing.  This piece was written from the prompt: "What does winter sound like?"  I tried to write this piece as prose, but it just wasn't working for me.  I then tried writing poetry, first time ever, and this piece was born.  It quickly wrote itself without much prompting from me.   I read it today in class and it was received well by my fellow writers, although I admit to almost hyper-ventilating while reading it.  

The Night Wind

In the darkest part of the night, when no one else is moving,

Is when I listen.

With the window open, I hear the sounds of life outside,

Coyotes crying, wind howling.

I lay motionless, careful not to awaken

Those who are sleeping.

Alone with my thoughts, I lay silently

And I listen.

Eyes open, ears open, black room. 

Silence, then crashing.

I hear the whiplash of wind as it

Whirls and twists the leaves

Into a pile which I will find in the morning

Huddled together for warmth. 

I don’t know why I like to lay in the dark and listen.

Is it the only time that is mine and I belong to no one?

The wind and I are alone.

It does not demand an answer.

It does not ask for help.

It simply breathes.