Moaning Outside, the Wind.

February and
Ice storms most likely
Persistent wind
Moaning against my bedroom glass.
Well that’s Canada.
Wind off the Atlantic
Piling up massive waves.
Against ancient Rock, Peggy’s Cove.
Wind over the Prairies
Tearing at the Ukrainian
Sod huts of yesteryear.
Wind skipping the
Crests of Rockies
Eroding tiniest fragments
Making for those
Turquoise Lakes.
Morraine, Bow, Louise.
Same wind now
Challenging me in darkness
Outside eleventh floor.
Maybe a cardinal
Crimson and treetop.
Will sing later for
My comfort and courage.
He’s the troubadour of Spring.