You want so much, March,
Surely you must realize that Spring
belongs to April.  February has laid claim
to Winter’s chill.

You were not made for blizzards
though you have known some, and you were not
made for bloom. That takes more than one day of sun,
more than a tentative warming.

O, restless month of yearnings
you have claimed the Wind.  Elusive, fretful
but never without dreams, you are more
than we bargained for…

We linger in your lengthening days,
taking pause at your open door between yesterday
and tomorrow.  Cheer up mighty lion, gentle lamb,
without you Winter would never end.