Mad March - a poem

Wind howling and loosening tiles, the rain has wiped out everyone's smiles.

A dark grey sky and scuttling clouds

Is it November, or March?

Pale blue sky and a watery sun, warm enough to think spring has begun.

Daffodils nodding their heads contentedly.

Is it June, or March?

Frosty rooftops and skating rink streets, clouds of icy breath and freezing feet.

The clear sky and blossom are surely deceitful!

Is it still winter, or Spring?