Oh Ho!

March laughs


and grasps

one winter’s last left straw

to throw its chilly winds abroad

and freeze our soul’s deep sod

The tender shoots of spring begun

are stilled upon their vines

The frozen trees stand watch over these

wizened by their time

They had not yet entwined their hopeful foliage here

but wait, solemn sentinels,

for April’s all clear

  Written March of 2012 during a "Spring Frost"  

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