March Winds
March Winds
Stooping their backs while grasping their hats,
The gentleman and lady friend push back
The wind, attempting to gain progression
On the sidewalk to their destination.
One leg ahead, followed by the other
Stepping forward in an aggressive manner,
They make tracks, but the draft is intently
Sweeping, brutally blistering, and chilling.
This is not the juncture to be out there, I conjecture
While staring out the window, observing the weather
And the motions and energies exerted by the couple
Entering the establishment where I wait on tables.
Raw oysters with cucumber mignonette sauce
(Recommended by many for manly performance)
Complement steamed Asian greens and oyster mushrooms,
With a slightly chilled Chablis to rid the gloom.
In-between seasons of winter and summer,
When the snow melts by the sun and wind’s vigour,
Giving way to raw dynamics and our encounter.
March winds—I was never too fond of the changeover,
Except on the latter in April’s joy filled days,
When spring becomes wonderful to the pupil
And I smell the sporting grass and see trees sprouting leaves
And flowers unfolding their petals in the warm breeze.
Whereupon the bough birds chirp endlessly
And bees fattening on blooms hum melodiously,
And people, carefree, are zestfully happy,
As when entering a garden of felicity.
Discreetly, I recompose myself not to let my emotions display
And leave the miss and her beau to enjoy their entrée plate,
Who softly giggle to each other with innocent grins
Of fortitude when out there braving March winds.
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