In March exact shadows on snow,
blue in the spectrum overtakes lavender;
the pillows of vapor at a slow bedroom gallop.
Up, up, the whistle pierces; the burn
of one and one, couples the rising
yearn, twin twine, dare,
and thickening flash in shoals.
Even deep-rooted conifers,
their green wax fangs open,
hustling in the languorous swells.
— Ruth Stone
Filed under: MARCH POEMS, Poets, Promoting yourself Tagged: arts arts arts arts arts arts arts arts arts arts arts aviation beauty blogging books climate creative current-events Food free God health heart home human-rights life literature love mental-heal arts, march
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