March came in like a lion;
went out like one
as well, roaring.
(There had been
calm times in between.)
Pale petals
grabbed from trees before
the flowers were fully formed
mixed with the snow
that dissolved on the bare ground.
Bins scuttled down the road,
alive and rattling,
shedding rubbish as they went.
Washing landed
in a fishpond
for a second soak
(startling the inhabitants).
The prop that should have held
the clothesline firm
dug itself into the grass
to avoid being sent arcing
like a javelin
point first to a bitter end.
Hail drummed
on cars, paths, windows, roofs
and all around,
nestling like spilled sugar
in new foxglove leaves.
A fence waved, rippling
as if a mirage had taken hold
but it was only the wind
telling the world
that April was coming;
in its own, cold,
boisterous fashion
trumpeting Spring.
Jay's World 
A delightful description.
And completely accurate – including my neighbour’s washing! It’s odd how describing something as if for a blog can produce hidden rhythms and rhymes and head for the poetry section!
A very expressive description of your storm! Beautifully worded, you can see effects and hear the wind.
Lovely poem! I particularly like the line about the hail nestling like spilled sugar among the foxglove leaves, as illustrated.
I’m glad you read it! The hail in the photo, I have to confess, was last year’s, but we got the same effects this time so I decided to use it!
You could certainly hear the wind here!! It seems to have blown itself out and the weather is now gorgeous!
The first three lines are excellent, well and truly. Also the line about spilled sugar… Lovely, lovely!
Thank you! You probably recall the foxglove in question – to the left of our front door!!