March

 Chilly days, winter days still,
 birdsong - a harbinger of good will.

Pussy willows are stretching to the sun.
Yet the cold March air touches everyone.

Snow drops, crocuses, and clover, bring delight.
Wet winter footprints are a muddy, dirty white.

Wild, chilled bursts of sharp breezes,
whip around necks, persistently teases.

The sun, warming, melting the cold.
Bird song breaking winter's hold.