March

Finally the snow comes,

Ghosting into a middle of the night sky

We thought it would come 

At seven, eight

The predictors of the weather told us,

But rain, 

And rain,

Sleet, then some tiny releases from 

The birthing clouds,

Because who are we to know

What will really happen?

And every early spring,

Late winter, I release into my fears,

The ones that 

Throttle me, and then I slay and 

Stymie them,

And I make myself remember:

Daffodils persist,

Crocus. 

Early others push through

Wintered sleep,

The ground gives way. 

Tonight I watch from a dark bedroom

Across the disappearing landscape

Spring snow, it deepens into grey 

And in the morning, I will see that 

Rhythm is more than any human ken,

The season knows.

I can’t spend time in these temporary days with 

My fretting about future,

Future past, that’s really what persists

With only now that knits it all together 

And maybe all I need to know is 

This spring snow.