Endless March

March is a muddy mess. Not even the jonquils have found it suitable. We are all still waiting.

March marks the edge, the end of winter's ravishment, the moment before mother earth begins to show.

Dark, dark and bare, with a cold wind, and somewhere in the midst of it the season rounds the bend.

This year though, there was a late March snow and wicked winter is holding on till the last moment.

But in my heart, I know it will spring yet.