March trudges on.
He walks through my days with
his brown, heavy boots-
thick with mud
and shards of winter.
I let him pass-
allow him
to fill my days with cold rain
and sunless afternoons
and his occasional
fits of thunder.
He promises me things.
Says he brings gifts.
Soft things
like butterflies
and ivory clouds
and velvet clover.
He teases me.
Assures me the days ahead
will be green
and full
and bright with sunshine.
Tells me I'll run barefoot
and smile
and wish upon the stars again.
He reminds me of sand
and strawberries
and hummingbirds
and hope.
But for now...
I wrap myself in
a cave of umbrellas.
Hide while the lightning
strikes in the distance
and dampness fills my veins.
I shake.
Tremble.
Ache with spring fever.
And he laughs.
