Tramontana

Barbara Howes

Poetry for December 1956

                                            VOL. LXXXIX NO. 3

FOUNDED 1912 BY HARRIET MONROE

             four poems

      | TRAMONTANA

             Down from the north,
             Clearing the hill's
             Snow-topped shoulder,
             Lashing the pale
             Brittle grass,
             The wind wheels.

             Skimming the land
             Low, like a sickle,
             Shaking the trees
             Barren that feel
             Its vehement breath,
             Taunting the bells'
             Tranquil high
             Calm as they peal
             Notes like moons,
             The wind growls
             In mock singsong.

Arguing all
Day, all night
Plaguing, the dull
River of sound
Rises, fills
Our being, and mind
Taut as a sail
Snaps: in its
Continual bellow
We choke, drown;
The wind kills.