March

MARCH

I have seen March
Come and go before.
Now here it is again,
Almost out the door.

The wind has been singing
It’s lonely whistling song,
Making us think and feel
The days are way too long.

But the sun has a way
Of send us to rest,
As it sinks in colors
Out to our west.

Then when we arise,
With spirits refreshed, anew,
We realize the days left
Are but a few, a few.

gkm/3-26-10

From JOURNEY
Poetry of Gloria Koehn Morse
p.21