Until the Wind Learns to Seethe

Why does the wind knock on my door

When I told it to only visit with warmth

Draped around its neck?

I am not fond of the frost that it wears.

I will not be the bearer of sympathy.

The door will remain locked

Until the wind learns to seethe.

And when that becomes too much,

I'll barricade the door it knocks on

And wait for it to simmer down.