A Sundae in March

An early spring wind touched my face,
Soft and gentle like a baby's breath.
Like nature's dessert just giving a taste,
A creamy warmth from winter's death.

The earth still smelled of leaves once green,
Looking helplessly up at their summer home trees.
Then branches danced wildly as if can't be seen,
Swaying to the beat of a frosty invisible breeze.

The sun groped through fast moving clouds,
Shards of light cut their way into the syrupy gloom,
Illuminating honeysuckle into bright green shrouds,
The only color to survive the frozen doom.

Globular chocolates of earth tilled in fall,
Sprinkled with an icy snow glaze.
Lonely cornstalks stand proud but not tall,
Forgotten after the harvesting days.

A red-tailed hawk, on guard, stood alone,
Watching for movement of life,
Perched on a locust post, like a menacing sno-cone,
Talons dug in like knife.

The sun surrendered to unforgiving marshmallow clouds,
Retiring its brief warmth for the day.
A chill returned, keeping its vow,
Allowing winter to once again have its way.

A mocha darkness engulfed the woods,
The wind chased itself away.
The horizon reddened to end the day good,
Creating a moment that night will erase.