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                                      March in the Mild Tropics

                          Seeing the sun shining for the first time
                         Just a few days before the Ides of March
                             In the midst of a mild tropical clime,
                      When the golden glows of the sun on march
                            In the sky mark the very early morn,
                             Is a celestial grace to me conferred
                       By the Divine that by some may be scorned
                             But by many souls is most coveted.

                       It`s the month when steady showers of rain
                           Paint rainbows in the sub-tropical sky
                      With the sparkling shine of the sun with strain
                       Draped with darkish layers of clouds up high,
                          A month when the unique orb of the day,
                                In the centre of cities and on hills
                         Tempers the tone of its bright blaze away
                              As it does in villages and the fields.

                 It`s the month when hills parched brown at year end
                      By scorching shines of the sun are now green
                        With carpets of young grasses that do bend
                           Under wishful whispers of wind unseen
                         In previous months, when rivers then dry,
                       Now gush in swift torrents and for the rains
                            Offer deep thanks to the celestial sky
                     As with their flow they can nourish the swains.

                       It`s the month of hope and new beginnings
                    When trees and flowers glimmer with new buds
                        When farmers toil the soil to sow seedlings
                   That will earn them their bread and their lifeblood,
                     When birds gaily twitter from branch to branch
                         With songs that herald cooler days ahead
                          And butterflies seek nectar with a dance
                            In midst of flowers without any dread.

                       It`s the month that links dying summer days
                                 To a coming mild tropical winter
                          That holds one`s spirit in a sublime sway,
                          Away from the scorching heat of summer,
                             When to be born in subtropical clime
                                Of an island is a blissful blessing
                             And in a maritime temperate shine
                            It`s an auspicious boon to be living.
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