poets wax
lyrical about spring
its
blossom and birdsong
but the
winds of change
make the
world an unruly place
we lose
our way
when our
hair is dishevelled
our tennis
serve threatened
and
newspapers flap like spinnakers
the wind
is a trickster’s breath
lifting
skirts and rattling windows
pulling
and stretching clouds
turning
oceans into mountains
dispersing
us like so much dust
