BROKEN PROMISE

With a quiet rush, the unexpected and unwelcome April storm begins

The kiss of warm, spring air transforms itself to biting wind

Cattle raise their heads and turn their backs to the northern breeze

Cottonwoods by the creek, so recently awakened from winter's sleep, rattle branches bare of leaves

Cow dogs sniff the air and move toward the warming  house, it's windows brightly curtained

Ranchers move their horses to the shelter of the barn, the fierceness of the coming storm uncertain

The wilder creatures shelter as they always have, in deeper woods, burrows, and rocks

More attuned than humankind to nature's fickle, wavering clock

Spring can be the cruelest time as it flirts with summer and chases frost away

But then it turns it back on us and sends a message wrapped in dreary, frigid days

Woodsmoke rising now from chimneys harkens back to recent days of icy beauty

Woolen coats emerge from slumbered storage, prematurely called again to duty

Across the hills and plains the dying breath of winter sends it's icy burn

In ranch and bunk house, pueblo and tipi, prayers are offered for Spring's return

Untrusted Spring. Fickle Spring. Beloved Spring.