In March...

I've been muddling away at this poem, originally begun to celebrate the first day of spring,but life and love made this a slightly more drawn out inspiration/celebrationof moody March! We've had a bit of everything weather can throw our wayon these first few days of spring! Below, first day of spring fourth day of spring... (sorry for the 15-beat lines, a bit more awkward to finda rhythm while reading it, but sometimes no matter how I try to change ita poem has a will/spill of its own!) A medley of photos that helped inspire some of the lines... In March cocky robins return, dressing lips and souls in smilesIn the sky a yellow lantern mellows weather-beaten islesIn the dell the brook is swirling, overflowing matted bondsEvery south-faced nook uncurling spring’s first frilly, chilly fronds Hark! within the heart of farmers hymns of hope begin to hailHo, the Zephyr is a charmer flirting with quick-tempered galeWhile on lawns with burlap patches brittle Leaf turns somersaultsWinter yawns, then sharply catches his breath; snowflakes whirl and waltz In March, woodlands draw attraction as temperatures start to climbSugar shacks bustle with action like a mall at Christmas timeWhere visions of maple syrup on pancakes lure young and oldWinter-worn hearts start to cheer up as tongues lap up maple-gold Laundry-lines, long stiffly laden, lilt with linen acrobatsAfternoon is like a maiden with arms full of purring catsOutdoor chairs, bereft of power start to beckon books and teaWhere the air is like a bower hosting birdsong symphony …as a surge of holy hunger for the smell and feel of earthMakes the gardener feel younger in worlds on the verge of birthPlots are vicariously planted at the first sun-tickled breezeThoughts are eagerly enchanted with flowery fantasies In March, iron-colored coppice blushes as bud-bands are loosedThe crow raises raucous praises as he coasts from roost to roostThe sky is a blue decanter pouring sunbeams, warm and sweetWhilst the ire of Old Man Winter rallies troops bound for defeat In March, delight is smitten, oft, with refurbished fortitudeOne day the wind is kitten-soft, the next, a brute, gruff and rudeBut, in March joy is undeterred, whatever forecasts may bringBecause in March the calendar carries winter into spring © Janet Martin For lo, the winter is past, The rain (snow?) is over and gone.Song of Solomon. 2:11(maybe not quite over and gone in Ontario, but soon!)