New Year exhileration - Ted Hughes

On the third day
Finds its proper weather. Pressure
Climbing and the hard blue sky
Scoured by gales. The world’s being
Swept clean. Twigs that can’t cling
Go flying, last leaves ripped off
Bowl along roads like daring mice. Imagine
The new moon hightide sea under this
Rolling of air-weights. Exhileration
Lashes everything. Windows flash,
White houses dazzle, fields glow red.
Seas pour in over the land, invisible maelstroms
Set the house-joints creaking. Every twig-end
Writes its circles, and the earth
Is massaged with roots. The power of hills
Hold their bright faces in the wind-shine.
The hills are being honed. The river
Thunders like a factory, its weirs 
Are tremendous engines. People
Walk precariously, the whole landscape
Is imperilled, like a tarpaulin
With the wind under it. ‘It nearly
Blew me up the chimbley!’ And a laugh
Blows away like a hat.