March Rains

Rain spatters the windows
drills against shingles and tin
drives across the fields
through the twisting trees
hammers the roads
diminishes the snow cover
hour upon hour

This rain and wind demand
notice
they move everything
in their tempestuous paths
searing their points with pellets
drawing all senses relentlessly
trumpeting change 

From the blessed shelter
of her sound kitchen
curled close to a flickering hearth
the Widow Wyile grows
deeper roots
strives for solidity of ground
resilient flexibility
of trunk and limb
her prayer for the trees
being vehemently danced
by boisterous gusts