022323 sonnet A Wearying Winter, Late February

A Wearying Winter, Late February

The oaks around the house today all sway,

Their bare black branches quake and shiver lines,

What little snow had landed there blew away,

The morning’s brilliant blue of night resigns

To washed out, bright blue, wind blown, sunshine skies,

The rigid trees exposed, their patient wait

For warmth and growth, the Sun without disguise,

Resist the thought that Spring will now be late.

A wicked storm unwinds up North right now,

Imperiled people all across our world,

Their paths obscured for months with heavy snow,

Here further South we watch our trees get whirled.

All led by freezing rain, we hunker in,

And long for warmth: Extend our hankerin’.