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(poetry diary  193-3/2/17) It’s ridiculously windy today. The beastly gusts kept trying to jerk my car this way and that as I drove on the highway, and I felt sorry for the New Haven trash collectors, as so many of the cans  had  toppled onto the street.  It was hard to sleep last night, too, because of all the howling….I’m enjoying this old-fashioned poem about March wind, though. Makes it more tolerable/fun. 🙂 

March Wind –Edwin Ford Piper 

 

The moody wind–is this its grudge day? Whoo!

 

Against the dusty sky, in the late sun,

A veering flock of mottled pigeons bounce

From the shoulders of a gust. In our village street

The captious wind races with itself,

As a dog pursues its tail; with brute persistence

Read rest of poem 

image source: Giphy