Wind, hail, sideways sleet
pummel the daffodils, the
swollen buds of the crabapple.
Not yet Spring, at least not today.
Horses flee to the barn, cats
nap on the bed, foregoing their afternoon hunt
hoping that treat time comes early.
I curl up, this Sunday afternoon, crossword done,
book calling, my own nap over--
pot roast aroma filling the house, needing the oven
after the pumpkin pies were done.
My glass of wine just right
as the latest push of wind and hail moves