A storm will arise tonight. br br The wind has started ruffling the pages of my book br The open window creaks, curtains billow. br Branches move, rustle softly, start to move. br Leaves of trees, leaves of books br Light, almost unsubstantial, it almost looks br As though an invisible hand moves. br br The storm has arisen, pale boughs dance br To the wind that has set to a-singing; br Where do the clouds go when they sail out of sight? br The moon, amused, hides and bobs br Consents to show a single ray of light. br br Lovers wait; poets write. br A storm will arise tonight.