Wind blew strong yesterday morning.
Rattled the leafless branches. Made the tall spruce and pine dip and dive in
a pre-dawn dance.
Egged on clouds to race across the still dark sky, streaking it with stripes of
I smelled the first fresh fragrance of Spring on that wind.
She said, “I’m coming. But be patient. You know Winter likes to take her time leaving.
A bit slow and sluggish, that one.
Almost as if she digs in her heels when she feels my insistence to get things
going and growing.”
Come noon, I saw Sun reigning higher in the sky than it had been for months.
Nudging warmth into Wind’s still icy chill.
Together, though, they partner well to melt Winter’s now tiresome gifts of snow and ice,
leaving puddles the size of small ponds on streets and drives,
revealing sodden black soil and mushy remains in gardens and fields.
Whispers the promise carried by March in these northern climes.
“But remember, I’m moody, ambivalent. You might even call me Caprice.”
– KW –