The Howling Winds of March

The howling winds of March Furious gusts of air mightily blow bestirring anchored poet sitting comfortably numb securely strapped in his hard to maneuver easy bath chair while all around him debris strewn helter skelter everywhere heavy objects unmoored pirouetting topsy turvy defying laws of physics cue Adam Smith courtesy his invisible hand eulogizing, kickstarting, and regulating unseen cogs and gear in order to avoid being plucked up analogous to whirling dervish ye dear reader best don top of the line name brand ironware to fend off soundcloud analogous to webbed whirled wide rooky banshee hounding kingly bishopric inducing royal knightmare whereat pawns called play as damage control representatives ultimately linkedin to medicare for bodily harm suffered and property destruction doled out courtesy Nationwide Insurance, nevertheless yours truly experienced heightened anxiety cuz I accidentally, casually, easily, et cetera eavesdropped, though a polite gentleman (boot no scholar) loud talking policyholder anyone could easily overhear their strident vocalizations and they owned chutzpah to ***** re: me for listening to conversation threatening with abominable language to scare living daylights, which nearly caused writer of these words to soil his underwear such vociferous threats wrought quick thinking defense posture, whereby my ordinary shy demeanor empowered after downing powder milk biscuits (cuz heaven's their tasty) and declaring warfare against being bullied versus suffering as token scapegoat most every year from boyhood until emerging adulthood. After crafting above lines current generated via whoosh; I sat mine hind quarters (otherwise referred to the tush), which signalled to Doctor Quackenbush, (id est Groucho Marx) not deficient with quick wit whose hook, line and sinker word of the day namaycush helped one environmental seaman high (fish) tail to Hindu Kush where removal from madding crowd spiritually inoculated one with a profound hush.