The Ides of March
Upon a sullied sodden sky
of alabaster and ash,
fantasy's formidable flotilla floats
as charcoal-colored clouds.
And on this mild, melancholy
mid-March day,
they dawdle; dribbling drops of rain
in sporadic Spring showers.
And Winter's whitewashed wonderland;
sparingly salted with brown brindled blotches,
magically melts away;
revealing rough, ragged patches
of grassy green.
When Winter's weakened grip gives way;
bulbs freed from frosty tombs,
are awakened by the tap, tap, tap,
of April's tepid tears.
And straightaway, snowdrops start sprouting
simultaneously, sending shoots skyward.
Color counters the thickness of this dark, dull day.
And a Robin redbreast abruptly appears;
defying drizzling drops of grey,
with its crimson chest, ornately on display.
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