A Storm Came Late

Frigid, knife-edged winds from the northwest sweep down like hungry raptors on pewter gray skies. Feral eyed, keen on destruction. Late May. Sullen skies discharge sleet and glacial, stinging rain. Threatening each newly exposed green leaf and sprout. Frozen rain. Unrepentant. People, startled by the velocity of a winter-spring storm put the parka back to work. Vibrant summer birds topple dead from their refuge or tree limb. Daffodil, crocus, and lilac suffer the slow suffocation of ice. Hedgerow and tree leaf are burned by ice' frozen fire. The sun, moon, and stars hibernate for days. Frail light and little warmth. Bleak optimism. Grim moods darken. Wildlife endures. An emerging cycle of life has been altered. Days are lived in half-tone and sepia. The sky makes no act of contrition. The unseen parallels, the lands, ice and cold north of the Arctic Circle visit their wrath upon us, erasing much of a slate-gray board of life. A new and boundless spring is cast aside. Souls pray and await warmth and golden light to renew and reincarnate a missing Spring.