LATE WINTER WIND

Leaves playing tag in the cold wind
as they sprint across the ground
while winter nears its chilly end
last blast ere spring comes around

In airish skies cirrus clouds race
foretelling storms now on their way
often dimming the sun's winter face
on this brisk and blustery day

Shoulders hunch and ears grow cold
eyes squint against the swirling dust
lofted by a breeze grown bold
interspersed by howling gusts

The few birds which choose to fly
dip and swerve on waves of air
which break through tumultuous sky
which has laid the trees all bare

Golden sedge fields are in motion
shaking off the morning dew
tossed about like a dry ocean
I love days like this, don't you