The wind detests stillness

The wind detests stillness. They are pounding pavement and sweeping landscapes. They've been roaring all day, but I can't quite make out what they're saying. I hear them and their gusto. Such guts they have to crank the volume high despite wincing faces and downturned heads. 

Damn, I wish they'd give it a break. Frankly, I'm just about done with their insensitivity. Bring on the sunny days. Move aside and make room for kind words and good news. 

But this meteorological angst and agitation. Is there something I can do? Because I'm just watching and wondering:

If they stopped all that bluster and mustered up some meaning. If they'd stop blowing everything this way and that for long enough to think straight. I might find this late-March wind has something important to say.