It Is March...

 Happy, happy March!

It is March; let’s wander, thought-loose through the *thawing countryside

Where the brook is gushing, rushing beneath blushing eventide...

*(it is definitely NOT thawing yet, but it will!)

It is March; ah, soon dusk’s shadow-fall will sprawl on backdrops green...

Rather than hues of blue etched starkly on canvas of ice-glazed sheen...

It is March; three little words that kindle sunshine in our souls

On the air a sense of fragrant flower-imminence cajoles

Landscapes, still tucked tightly beneath sheaths of snowflake eiderdown

Somewhere spring stirs; furrows emerge, patterning white sweeps with brown

As stubbly fields mimic three-day growth on Old Man Winter’s chin

Hope waltzes with weightless slippers over hills and under skin

Where dreamlands brim with bright promise bud and bulb wait to fulfill

Ears are keened to catch the first robin-chirrup or killdeer-trill

It is March; ah, soon dusk’s shadow-fall will sprawl on backdrops green

Rather than blue hues etched starkly on canvas of ice-glazed sheen

Ah! we will weather its weather, whether warm-gold or cold-gray

For we know in March, an age-old tug-of-war is under way

Raindrops tap-tap on the window, snow and sleet rap at the door

Time enough will prove the victor; spring will always win the war

Daffodils will bob in breezes, gaining many a glad glance

Stiff gales will yield to sun-kisses; springtime’s annual romance

It is March; let’s wander, thought-loose through the thawing countryside

Where the brook is gushing, rushing beneath blushing eventide

Where the sugarbush is basking in brief popularity

As nature’s sweet-sweetest wonder drip-drips from the maple tree

While mouths water at the thought of syrup drizzled on pancakes

Donuts sizzling from the fryer, apple fritters, belly aches

While we marvel at the measure of pleasure each season grants

Good old days (in spite of progress) rekindles Bygone’s romance

It is March; and we are ready to shed parkas, mitts and hats

Ready for the warmer welcome of flipflops and lawn-chair chats

Ready for the friendly hello of tulip and buttercup

For the training and the scolding of muddy, mischievous pup

Ready for outdoor to-do-lists, armed with rakes, hoes, spades and seeds

Ready even for the never-ending task of tackling weeds

Ready for rosy complexions, courtesy of gardening

It is March and we are winter-weary and ready for spring

Janet Martin

It is March; and we are ready to shed parkas, mitts and hats

Ready for the warmer welcome of flipflops and lawn-chair chats...