I hate the wind–
The cold and bitter wind,
The winter wind
That shakes the house’s foundations,
That cuts like a piece of paper edgewise,
And chaps the hands.
The winter wind disturbs my soul;
The winter wind makes me want to fling myself at it
And get even.
It is just the thought
That winter wind
Provides the impetus
To the seasons–
That it is bowling April back to me–
That gives it an excuse for being.
I can endure it.
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 31, 1946
