The sun had gone, the wind was moaning at him from the east.

The wind moaned in the trees, but all else was still.

Outside was night and a lost wind moaning among the black trees.

The wind moaned cold when he stopped at the corner.

The wind moaned in the pines and the land was dark around us.

The wind, moaning now, was the sound of James dying.

The wind moaned and the fire cracked, but the strange feeling did not return.

Outside, the wind moaned and threw ice against the windows.

The stiff wind moaned through a stand of nearby trees.

Wind, beginning to pick up velocity in late afternoon, moaned at the window.