March came in this year, like a wet feline,
Growling and mad without a sign
Of the sweet pussycat that she can be.
I wonder what made her so angry.
Winter won’t leave yet, Spring wants her turn.
March, caught in the middle begins to yearn
To be a month with no change of season.
Her stress causes me to lose my reason.
So don’t blame March if within her reign,
Everything is wild and a bit insane.
Winter wants his turn and Spring must wait
Until he is going out of the gate.
It is then you will see a swift turn around
With sweet March smiling without a frown.
The sun will shine and skies will be blue
And to this March madness, we’ll bid adieu.
For Carolyn's contest won 2nd place
.
Baked sweet potatoes fluffed high
Warm sweet scented base
Eggs, sugar, milk, butter, spices
Coconut, raisins
Chopped pecans topped with
Marshmallows__
Yum!
This month alas, was when we met
Four hundred and forty two months ago
A month most commonly, often wet
Proactive tears for our latent sorrow
There in unusual morning brightness
You stood before the altar like a lamb
And in resplendent sacred sweetness
I heard your beauty sang of the great I AM
September clouds were white that day
September flowers in bloom as may
September joyed like bright kites away,
September love can, never, never stay
But the fruit of September stains still
The heart, despite the will, can remember
The trees dress gusting o'er the bent hill
And the heart brightly burning with love's sweet ember
O mistless memory, O sweet
Unfruiting dreams, friendship in shadows pines
For the nectar hope's sweet breasts secrete
For the prolific season's latent signs
To freeze, for age gold bowl no contentment
Yields, when limbs creak and bones seek shutters warm
And flesh failing sap lies impotent
Where the honey runs from the comb - trembling my arm
Who remembers, is it only me?
Flour paste, scissors and pretty colored paper
Assembled upon the table, the early morn in May
This memory shrugs so many years away
Our innocence, cut and shaped
Into bright-sprigged paper cones
Such sweet accomplishments, each our own
Then quickly running out the door
To pick spring beauties, violets galore
Or lady slippers, wildwood fern, we gathered them
Sweet Williams, heavy on their stems
And fresh as morning dew, filled with bloom
The paper cones were flower filled
And paper handles dried, smells of sweet perfume
Then down the dusty road we trudged
Arms loaded side by side
No greater pleasure as a child
The thought of bringing someone smiles
Then knocking on each neighbor's door
And calling "May basket...Surprise!"
Our little legs then running quickly, down the road,
Behind a tree, we would hide
And watch them find this flower prize
Must not....get caught.....must not get caught!
And we were taught
That bringing light to someone's eyes
Was worth a lot !!
Under May Day's vibrant skies