The twelfth of March

A sky of oatmeal
Away across
The hills of Dolgellau
we
Can feel the strength
Of the wind, it’s length
A misty aura aggressively
Pounding AWELFA night and day
In a rigourousness
And a bludgeoning way
A Spartan look into the sky
Comes a threatening force
A spiteful eye
A dancing light
A complete wipe out
Something Fahrenheit
A waft of white
Crosswinds battle
A dire sou-Wester
A storm forced feel
Judder and shudder
And just feel how real.