This poem was inspired by my wife's grandmother and her belief in an old wive's tale about winter weather. Looking back, it seems she was usually right.
Eastern Winds
snow skies approach from the south,
winds roar from the east.
according to a Grandmother,
long of experience,
eastern winds foretell of blizzard drifts,
and biting cold,
a day for soup,
and baking in a kitchen,
warm and cozy,
while the menfolk,
and school boys,
ready the ranch for a white and freezing siege.
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