Spring into writing

On this site, I hope to reach potential writers, happy readers and entertain and inform those of us who love to write. Just as a taster here is a sonnet to the wind:

Branches up high that bend with the wind

That catch a voice and pass it on

A Chinese whisper, with messages soon gone

A fickle voice sending, hope soon rescinded.

Clouds that gather, that push and tumble

That gossip and gather and tell of their grief

Bank on dark bank as they wail and they shriek

Then quiet descends, their voice just a grumble

The trees shiver lightly, their tears now at bay

And rain sweeps through leaves with nothing to say

A calm voice you hear, nothing left now to fear

The storm has abated, no lies will we hear

And a soft sibilant whisper

Stirs not even a whisker.

I would love to hear your responses and also your contributions.