By: Leib Wiener | Features  | 

Wind Tunnel

It wallows and swirls
It lifts and wafts
Its body twists and unfurls
It sneers and taunts

A quarter to three and class begins
A beast awakens within its lair
A slow start, small little spins
A couple kippahs and paper take to the air

The warm up ends
The beast breathes deep
The fearful students crouch
The roiling wind sweeps

It struts around
It prods and pounds
It screams a truly awful sound
It lifts people up off the ground

Alas, with a sigh and puff
Alas, with nothing to show
Alas, the beast loses its stuff
Alas, the wind tunnel ends and silver doors close

Courtesy of the YU Poetry Club