(Fog rising from the valley beneath our house)
As we prepare to bid March farewell, it's fitting to offer a poem that brings a new perspective to the month. March comes in like lamb, goes out like a lion, or vice versa. How about March coming in a a great, wet thing? A big washrag of fog!
This poem is in response to my invitation posted a few days ago, on both my "Laureate's Lasso" and "Here, Where I Am" to write a poem sounding like "green." Mindy followed her own bent.
Ode to March
Oh you great, wet thing!
Vast as a mountain
Lithe and lean, carried by the wind.
How will you, with all your promises
Fulfill them?
Push out the green of bulbs, the buds, the birds!
For today, the very first
You’ve covered me in fog.
Made me a soggy thing of little worth
Mindy Evans
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