Early March, and she toys with us—
checks-in to make sure we wait
patiently, perhaps even pray
for her attention as she stampedes
across town, destruction in her wake.
We are helpless only to watch,
rooted to this ground ignored,
but for light kisses, promises
blown on her way out the door.
We know her well, intimately—
sustaining every dream and more,
believing in her fickle fidelity,
her wild extremes we have endured
for lifetimes. Yet, we begin again
to learn our place in this relationship.
drycrikjournal 
As a gardener, I have a similar relationship. Love this one John…….it goes on the frig and gets passed along…..beautiful!
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