Angry Season's March

Angry Season’s March
by
Richard Vance


The angry season marches in
Lockstep, goosestep, in unison
To force it’s will and have it’s way
Attack and kill the warm and sultry breeze,
To chase away all dog-day dreams,
Living things will surely feel the pain,
A Robin flees, a cold harsh breeze,
Just bare and leaveless trees remain,
The geese in tight formation fly away,
And summer’s gone
And summer’s gone
Like Satan’s breath,
The winter here to stay