THE WALK TO WORK

Winter’s last gasp rolls across March mornings,
While mountain arms ascend
To redirect black billowing,
Snow laden, clouds.

One last shot before summer dust
Crawls upon the desert face below,
But clouds don’t care, don’t know
About the future.

They fall to fog then rise and swirl eastward
Oblivious to mortal needs.
Cold wind rides vanguard for the force,
Turning collars up on joggers jackets
As it passes.

Kites plummet earthward, as caught in crosswinds
They test the strength of tethers.
Frantically they back and forth
Across the sky, afraid of being swallowed by storm.

Teachers have no need to call for children,
Who run toward their classes after recess,
When the bell rings,
When winters last gasp rolls across March mornings.