March Wind-song

Above the crypt of Time’s lament

The March wind moans in discontent

Its discourse fingering the limb

Of nature’s stricken diadem

Where soon its dormancy will swell

And fill the void of winter’s knell

Moments startle then pass, benign

Shaping the earth's horizon-line

To seasons where softly we brave

Its rendering, before our grave

Is decked with rose-and-wreath-caress

Tuning the March wind’s wantonness

The shroud of life’s unknowns evoke

Within the heart a tender cloak

Of courage, hope; for what are we

But whispers of mortality

Before we take our place among

The notes composing March wind’s song

© Janet Martin

Today its gray song wanders the gray landscape, threatening to spill in gray snow-tears.