Will spring ever come? Here is a poem for March. Thanks for reading. – Lisa
March
A good name for the month
that comes at the end of this cold,
cold winter. We are tired, and yet,
we march, we lift our knees, we
make our way past mountains
of decaying snow, all crusty grey,
all filled with dirt, with nothing
of the magic that fresh fallen,
it once held for us. No snow globe
world this, just a grubby, frozen
promise that all will melt and come
to mud before we bask in green.
Lisa Vihos
Lisa Vihos: Poet and Novelist 