Prayer of the March Wind

By Marianne Bickett, copyright 2011

"Buddha Has Tulip," photo by Brian Belet, copyright 2011

March has arrived
Not softly nor meekly
But hollering and blustering
Plopped down upon the seaside mountains
She sits as clouds, giant cotton balls gathering on the horizon
Tumbling over the crests with gray pants and a pure white woolen scarf
Flung about her broad shoulders
She arrives like a queen,
Clearing everything in her path
March sweeps her wide arms about in front of her
Throttling the bows of trees as she announces her presence
Loosening any hesitant thought of winter
For hers is the coming of buds and blossoms
Now peeking out from vacant branches
Peep by peep they come, a sprout here, a sprig there
Until one morning, as if surprised, every color bursts
Every leaf opens and one cannot give but any notion
Of what was once bare and empty
She comes along and fills us
Awakens us bereft of subtly
Leaving little doubt that she is Change
We can stand and face her
Or run for cover
From the winds that blow into our lives
And leave very little else behind

Categories: poem by Marianne Bickett


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