Prayer of the March Wind

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

Eos: The Creative Context