The Wind in Spring

My breezy love has turned so cold,                                                                                     Whistling, whining, over bold,                                                                                                Harking back to winter long,                                                                                                      Bitter, biting, cruelty’s song.                                                                                                          Why wear this aspect, oh, my heart?                                                                                              Did you not tell me spring could start?                                                                                         You wooed me with your gentleness,                                                                                          Now, harsh and barren your caress.                                                                                              Yet, would I treasure even this,                                                                                                         To win again your fickle kiss.

Fortunately or unfortunately, spring poems still seem to be singing in my head. This one popped in with a dramatic weather change. The day before yesterday, it was balmy, 76 degrees, and sunny. When yesterday dawned, we had dropped 35 degrees overnight, and 25 mile an hour wind gusts had created a chill and freeze warning! Today, it is 31 degrees.

Though there is no snow, my car windshield was covered with frost and I brought my plants inside. It was grey and gloomy at first, before the sun finally came out. The gusts have rustled the leaves and kept my wind chimes clanging a riotous warning of the frigid breezes.

On the other hand, in Syracuse, where we used to live, there was a snowstorm, temperatures in the teens, and there’s more snow coming. Actually, this does remind me of spring before we came to Edenton: erratic, unexpected outbursts of winter rearing it hoary head repeatedly, like the monster you thought defeated at the end a horror movie…coming back for encore attacks.

Here, most years, spring and fall are typically more placid and temperate.

The rivers that empty into the Albemarle Sound are usually a kind of safety net and are probably what are protecting us from what surely could be worse. The monster is just making a last gasp…well hopefully the last!

The buds on the Japanese Maple are leaves now. Solomon’s Seal is poking up and the Forget-me-not is flowering in the sleeping fairy garden. So spring is still progressing. The warmth will come again.

Blow wind…blow the clouds away….        With a red sun at the end of day.

Come spring…come and stay…                     The daylight breaks and wants to play.