Once long ago, in the days of my childhood, March snow was warm. Each crystal melted upon contact and slowly buds emerged. Only up high in the Alpine meadows March lasted a life time caught in blinding light and snow.
Yesterday, I spoke to Spring with temperatures hovering at subzero to find myself blinded by the March sun at noon shadows delicately long across the deep deep snow.
Today, the sun will rise in the hill behind the house announcing in all its glory there is Winter left here and I will rejoice in the knowing for under all that snow somewhere in February I saw my garden bed bare, and I know the little bowl of seeds I saved will soon find home.

March 21, 2018 

Icy air fills lungs 
Snow drops at my door yet winds 
chime in the Spring sun

March 24, 2018

In the Spring she rose
to find Winter beckoning
until Tuesday

Le printemps se lève, pour trouver que l'hiver restera, jusqu'a lundi soir.
L'hôtesse respire car elle sais que la rose bientôt reviendra.

March 25, 2018

La promesse du Lundi
Eclat de soleil
Petite fonte de neige
Boue émerveille
Monday's Promise
Sun bursts
Icicles stretch
Snow melts and?
Mud marvels

March 26, 2018