Hi, Lexa!
On the whole, I like the conceit, but I am utterly distracted by trying to figure out why you have chosen not to make this 14 lines, and why the rhyme scheme is so unpredictable.
I suppose that the technical unpredictability matches the unpredictability of March's weather, as seen through the window, but my left brain is so engaged with analyzing the mechanics that my right brain is having a very hard time being swept away by the poem.
I was also a little distracted by the "yellow air," which I personally associate with pollution (wildfire smoke, etc.). Perhaps "golden"?
I hope some of these thoughts are helpful, or at least prompt some discussion that might be. [Oh, good, I cross-posted with Jim's view.]
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