For the first week or so
March chafes.
Can't you tell
by looking at the word
with your ears?
Still, by the end of it,
we'll have frequent
sixties and seventies,
and the bright
promise
of forsythia
and lively birds
like schoolkids
calling each other names
in the bustling hedges.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian

Read 336 times
Written on 2022-03-01 at 07:43




![]() |
josephus |
Texts |
![]() by Uncle Meridian ![]() Latest textslet these bonesFragment [soft] [during meditation] [lunar accolade] |

