Nones of March Sonnet
(7 March)
Change comes upon earth in span of mere days,
and frozen ground transmutes to rich, black mud.
Bright green moss clings to stream bank by new flood
where ice, under assault from the Sun’s rays,
surrenders at last. White peeks out from red
as leaf-pods prepare. Pale morning’s last grays
start to show green. Chipmunk gambols and plays,
leaving his tiny prints in sudden mud —
dry, dead dust become chthonic soil.
It gives life and death in equal measure.
Owl still keeps watch from his seat in an elm;
magnolia pines on some last, secret sign,
eager to open her scented treasure.
She intends to dazzle and overwhelm,
blooming like rainbows after passing rain.
