The smell of mown grass
is almost obscured by wind-
very faint perfume.

Winds rattle windows,
storm clouds are brewing; it seems
March leaves like a lion.

New, fuzzy leaf shoots
cover all the trees leaving
me lonely and blue.

I awoke to snow-
dusting the late March colors
and shocking the birds.

A torrent of rain
and plumes of fog grazing earth
driving through storm clouds.

Perfectly still sky-
like looking at the landscape
encased in glass air.

Soft shades of twilight
soften all the rough edges
with or without wine.