O Wind that Whips the lilacs there,
And the elm’s long branches: yet half-bare;
That makes the lawn to ripple and dance,
While the tulips nod at each other’s glance;
That causes the poplar to shudder and cringe,
The spruce to wobble like last night’s binge;
Causing rain drops to bullet against the pane–
Go away (for it’s MAY) til it’s March again.
But in truth, we’re contented as all-get-out:
Windy poet has something to write about!
Puff away, O Wind, til I shut my mouth,
For it’s May, and you’re BLOWING FROM THE SOUTH!
by Ray Romine Sunday, May 16, 1943
