a/n: a little unseasonal, but spring just ended here because our weather is a little screwy. then again, this was also written during springtime, so it fit. Back then. I think I have too much poetry on this site.
february is the month of broken hearts;
but march comes swiftly on its trail,
a muddy boy blue (green) who laughs rain
and pulls the hair of wide eyed girls in yellow raincoats.
march is the month of renewal,
singing primavera and dogwood violet.
little boy march has boticelli curls and a da vinci mouth
and he likes to lick raindrops off the clover cheek
of little girl april,
whose pale dress grows transparent with dew.
march is the month of growing things,
and like the vision of a lilac girl (lightly),
april comes softly in his palm.