East wind (2)

Wreathed in white
Looming starkly
from the east
the mountains stand

The wind blows
still from the east
blowing straight
through you

Snow has not
reached here
Neither have
the drifts

The folk and animals
of Ireland and Argyll
plunged into winter
upon the spring equinox

Buried in snow
the sheep expired
the March lamb succumbed
to the March lion

Spring it was to be
But winter came instead
Three months late
here to stay

The muirburn flares
at times out of control
flames fanned
by the relentless east wind

Under the peat
the flames yet smoulder
north and south
across these isles

An anomalous spring
The seasons upside down
The east wind
in the isles of the west

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