Wind gusts
from the northwest cut around the eaves,
Split open
sleeping eyelids, and
Cast a ghost
light over canopies of branches
Weighted
down to the height of the windows.
Pear
blossoms are sheathed in glaze ice;
Blasts of
air arch the top-heavy, loblolly trunks;
Tuffs of
ice-coated, green needles fall and
Scatter like
pine cones at the base of the trees;
Ice scraps
pelt the ground;
Supercooled
raindrops freeze
At the touch
of a blade of grass.
There is mystery
in mid-March winter storms,
Ill-timed
for spring’s first buds and petals.
Unforeseen interruptions
in lines of thought and sight
Become cloaked
fragments,
Frozen and
suspended in mid-air,
Transformed
and generated into icy apparitions that
Break from
their boughs, melt and disappear.
© cmheuer, March, 2017
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