MARCH, IN LOVE

March feels like sitting silently under the

morning sun. We ride round and around

on a carousel, stuck in this dreamy haze.

My heart melts into the palm of your hand.

So, it’s spring. So the birds are back. There

is singing outside my window. Everything

is cherry blossoming. I am braced for a

growth spurt. The sun is the only thing I

love back this year. March is the fresh start,

dancing with daffodils and daisies and lilacs.

Everything backlit by the sun, by pink skies.

The world is yawning back into existence,

rubbing its eyes and readjusting to the light.

March is screaming. She is the banshee, saying,

love was killed here last year but I don’t want

to be remembered as a battlefield. I am soft.

I am fresh soil. I am new, stronger roots.

Love will be replanted. Regrown. Love

will come back with new, stronger roots.