March

Just like March,

I couldn't decide,

March couldn't decide,

Couldn't make up her mind.

She awoke with yellow sun,

Sat and stared with a novel “Grey Cloud”,

Her tears like violent rain,

Her voice like thunder aloud.

March,

Poor girl,

She spun and thought she was dancing,

but the balleted tornado didn't belong,

and damage was done in her prancing.

Tomorrow she says,

Yellow sun will return,

Producing life in colors,

for the bees and each other.

She believes yellow sun,

Will be warm and filled with light,

but the darkness brought, 

yet another cold night.

With gratitude I whispered,

“March reminds me of me”,

As new life awakened,

She taught me to accept,

All the great wisdom God helped her reflect.

So yellow cover me warm,

And night teach me in shivering,

Great wisdom He used,

In March for her giving.

Copyright © March 20, 2025, Jessica A. Goolsby, March. All Rights Reserved.

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