March

Under the wind, a bass drum roar!
Spring! bubbling up from the wells of the deep!
A sigh in the trees, still muffled with sleep.
Echoes that roll from Earth’s underground store.

Toss to bare branches the windborne sound.
Though deathly silent beneath our feet,
wrapped in white like a winding sheet,
Winter broods bitterly over the ground,

a pulse is quickening far below
and a scent in the air...and we know, we know...