March came in too eager;
strained and sheeted now, lashed
beneath the charcoal-tented sky he waits.
Snow on snow; dredging steady
ashes to ashes, shrouding now
the flickering warmth of lambs,
the draggled ewes -
anxious in grey wool;
the daffodil trumpets are stopped with forgetfulness;
till wild comes a fan of sunlight,
out soars a shaft of bird-song,
piercing
light....
(March,
1980)
