(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