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/celebration

of moody March!

We've had a bit of everything weather can throw our way

on 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 find

a rhythm while reading it, but sometimes no matter how I try to change it

a 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 smiles

In the sky a yellow lantern mellows weather-beaten isles

In the dell the brook is swirling, overflowing matted bonds

Every south-faced nook uncurling spring’s first frilly, chilly fronds

Hark! within the heart of farmers hymns of hope begin to hail

Ho, the Zephyr is a charmer flirting with quick-tempered gale

While on lawns with burlap patches brittle Leaf turns somersaults

Winter yawns, then sharply catches his breath; snowflakes whirl and waltz

In March, woodlands draw attraction as temperatures start to climb

Sugar shacks bustle with action like a mall at Christmas time

Where visions of maple syrup on pancakes lure young and old

Winter-worn hearts start to cheer up as tongues lap up maple-gold

Laundry-lines, long stiffly laden, lilt with linen acrobats

Afternoon is like a maiden with arms full of purring cats

Outdoor chairs, bereft of power start to beckon books and tea

Where the air is like a bower hosting birdsong symphony

…as a surge of holy hunger for the smell and feel of earth

Makes the gardener feel younger in worlds on the verge of birth

Plots are vicariously planted at the first sun-tickled breeze

Thoughts are eagerly enchanted with flowery fantasies

In March, iron-colored coppice blushes as bud-bands are loosed

The crow raises raucous praises as he coasts from roost to roost

The sky is a blue decanter pouring sunbeams, warm and sweet

Whilst the ire of Old Man Winter rallies troops bound for defeat

In March, delight is smitten, oft, with refurbished fortitude

One day the wind is kitten-soft, the next, a brute, gruff and rude

But, in March joy is undeterred, whatever forecasts may bring

Because 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!)