I was so stunned by the roar of the wind and the bending of the tree branches that this poem came to be.
The other night I heard the wind howling like a wolf,
alone in its nightly walk across the great expanse.
I stared out from the window into a dark, indigo sky,
watching the wind actively shake bowing branches.
Winter's cold clutch held on tightly to each tree as
they swayed in the bitter embrace of March's arrival.
Holding court, winter proclaimed its continuance and
You need to travel to YouTube to listen to Howling Wind.
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb
and so I celebrate its entrance but hope it warms up soon.
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This post is the fourth in a series titled March Musings that I am offering
to two writing communities that I am a member of:
Celebrate This Week with Ruth Ayres
and
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