MARCH HAS A FICKLE HEART

March in the North Country is one of those seasons in-between, no longer really winter and yet it is not really spring, March has a fickle heart...

This is the month that spring arrives,
so says the calendar,
snows will melt; we’ll see some green,
there will be warmer temperatures…
But living in the North Country,
I’ve grown up to know better.
You see, March has a fickle heart
and you cannot trust the weather.

The day may dawn with glorious sun
where gentle breezes blow
and then by noon the clouds roll in
and dump a foot of snow,
old winter showing he’s still here
and doesn’t plan to go,
anywhere, well, not real soon
as he challenges the sun,
blows cold breath in huffs and puffs
because he can and thinks it’s fun;
And he mocks the sun for trying
to set the rivers free
and warm the icy branches
so trees can give birth to leaves.
Though the sun is radiant by ten,
it is still just twelve degrees
and freezing cold out there
as gray skies come rolling in,
clouds building up another storm
pushed and shoved by winter wind.

It’s the battle of the seasons
between winter and spring
when we can never be quite sure
just what the day will bring.
The calendar says spring has sprung,
but March has a fickle heart.
Spring struggles to get through the door
but winter won’t depart.

Author's Note

Both the poem and photo are by me, Annette Bromley. Spring is trying to arrive.

Reviews

[icelandicblue]

March does have a fickle heart. She cannot decide whose side she is on! You are right, we cannot trust the weather, nor those who report it! This is a wonderful and timely poem, as we watch the seasons battle it out. My money is on spring.