To the March Wind

Oh, strong March wind, blow away all the dust
of summer, all the dead brown leaves
of fall, all the crud of winter. 

Oh, let the earth be fresh again and ready,
ready for the seed again,
for the cold steel blade
of the entering plow. 

Oh, blow in clouds! 
Not just the little cumulus. 
Huge thunderheads! 

Let them gather and build and release their power
and then blow away. 

Take kites! 
Take them and hold them high and firm
on the slate blue sky! 
Or suddenly hurl them into trees! 
Skewer them on the small dancing twigs! 

Oh, wind, just keep on blowing. 
Or whatever you do,
it’s okay.

Hear it: