The forecast lay heavy, windswept, and cast sharply upon the brow.
Burdened with mist, edged by ice, a foreboding song hummed through the air.
This time of year, should be warmer, yet the thunder warns of a different plot.
hail bounces harshly against the ground,
to swirl wildly into flake.
I peer out my warm sheltered window, to see the odd, cold, gray fingers of May,
reaching out for our cliff side abode!
Written by: Dawn Pawz