Dear March, Goodbye

You gave me hope, relief from
Winter’s frigid grip
your warming smile, if rare, a
welcome haven.

But rain, snow – then bright sunny sky;
Mother Nature’s hormones gone awry –
make up your God-Damned Mind.

Your thirty-one day flow left me
laughing, sweating
then poured a chill down my spine.

You were born from a torn alliance
between February and April; can't
commit to one without forsaking the other
and I, the edge of a that frozen blade –
you slipped off whenever it got confusing . . .
you’re unbalanced by nature, I know that now.

I lied to myself that I could use you,
a stepping stone,
a more gentle hardship between seasons;
the promise of glorious springs, fulfilled.

But I was the fool stepped on,
mud-soaked and cut by broken ice,
flooded by muck and gray misty days;
clouding my judgment – a penumbrous joy.

How could I have been so stupid, and you
so, so cold –
where are the flowers you promised me?

Knitting Circle

Wrinkled grey woman
Wanes even as she waxes, time
As balls of yarn, un-
Ravels as she
Spins.

Stories, multiple histories...
Crystal star-collared calico in
a patch of sun poised;
Ready to - Pounce – while one
Gold-rimmed eye languidly
Blinks.

The tail snaps;
Motion-blurred furplosion
paws and claws and -
The balls roll once again.

Somewhere a cat
Scratches in his böx -
and doesn't.

Possibly, a super-
Centenarian and her
Precious, have skeined
something revolving around
cosmology.