Once again... (is that an oxymoron?) a merry March-melt is under way...
(not so welcomed by Maple-syrup Producers)
When the gray of March turns gold
Warming places cold with doubt
When we glimpse first spring once more
Don’t it make you wanna shout?
When what long held blooms at bay
Falls prey to zephyr-romance
When the bud begins to wake
Don’t it make you wanna dance?
When the earth is primed with birth
Where its girth, a tomb-like glove
Opens up its cloven fist
Don’t it make you wanna love?
When the sun climbs under stars
Over bars of Beginning
Into a new day of grace
Don’t it make you wanna sing?
© Janet Martin