Windy
As hats fly all off, the brown leaves to swirl,
in tallest trees nests, grey squirrels to curl.
The wayward wind to send a March salute,
While its force in charge, no one to dispute.
Wild birds scurry, in warming nests to hurry,
The chilling breezes, whirl about in a flurry.
As we grab our top coats, to down our caps,
Button up from head to toe, including flaps.
Moving clouds so does bring on cold,
when that old windy season is here.
Makes each one wish for the sunshine,
When the Springtimes soon to be near.
Now blowing each kite far out of sight,
when awaiting tree tops collecting all,
Walking against it is a no-brainer then,
at that wicked wind's own raging ball.
Stormy skies and sharp blustery air
So does permeate the entire scene,
Everything flies that's not tied down,
Seems that wind is downright mean.
Lofting limbs, forming paper trails,
In creating such a tangled sight,
Makes those sounds to go bump,
In the darkest hours of each night.
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