Cruel March

 


They say that March

comes roaring in,

then sheepishly departs.

 

I disagree

for me, you see,

it’s a month of fits and starts.

 

March warms the bulbs

who peek their heads,

then hide beneath the snow.

 

The peas I planted

hoping spring,

rot in the earth below.

 

March is fickle.

March is cruel.

Eliot was wrong.

 

April is the kinder month,

March

winter does prolong.

©2023 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved

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