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Poem

The Windy Month of March

Along the road I strolled
With my bonnie Chlo
As cheerful as a lark
In the windy month of March,
When the wind doffed
My bunnet off.

Down the Brae I dashed
Whilst my Chloe did laugh
As I chased the cap
Across the Haugh,
With old Sol brimming
Warmth upon our being.

Underfoot of strides,
Upon grasses and sedges I tramped;
Past daffodil blooms and thistle pricks,
And briars in the heath,
And when I reached to grab the brim,
The wind would blow it away again.

We were happy as plums under the sun.
My Chloe and me walking along
With hands embraced,
“She’s my lass,” I’d proudly say,
On an otherwise perfect day
Until the wind blew my bunnet away.

Finally, the wind quit,
And I retrieved my bunnet
Whilst my Chloe had the fits
To see upon my head it sits,
Stretched o’er my ears stiff as starch,
In the windy month of March.

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