Do Storms Liberate?

In the wee hours
wail the winds
with weary punctuation
Sensations
wait in minds
weighed weary
in fatal towers
waking at every blow
from sporadic detonations
Sand or snow
seeds to sow
needs to know
when opacity
windward
yields
when mild audacity
sweeps
loquacious locusts
from sun-starved
fields.