Trees are wagging, Whipping, and waving That were still but A moment ago. Dark clouds snuck in With pattering rain, But, oh, how those Foul winds do blow!
Rolling boat on roiling seas: heaving and creaking & pitching and listing -- Decks shifting between untenable states, Crew tying in, tethering to what might become the anchor around their collective necks, pulling them all to the depths - 'til the last bubble spills upward from a nostril.