Two new poems of March

The Pale Morning Light of March

In the pale morning light of March,
As the absence of light flees into the west,
I walk the country roads, muddy—
The earth imprinted with those who walked
While I was still in bed, asleep to dreams,
Deaf to voices, cold on the dark horizon.

In the distance, I hear a train rolling away,
Hauling people into the city yet again,
City gates opening to swallow them,
Leaving behind the village, the muddy roads,
Whatever wine, laughter or tears of the night before.

Even from here, slowly walking, I can see the vision
Unfolding, burning the long, dark night away.
Breeze blows from nearby ocean shores, unseen,
Busy swallowing all the river brings
In the pale morning light of March.

The March of Spring

The snow is slowly melting, inch by inch.
Soon the ground will be exposed, the bright
Absence of winter will be overcome by green,
And so I wait.  I wait for birds to find their way
As trees find their sap climb thick trunks, slowly
Lifted by a song I cannot hear, but know
It’s there, somewhere in the fresh air of spring.

Birds will come to build their houses,
Hardly visible, the way they wing through air,
Gradually warms the blossom in the heart,
A sweetness I know is there but cannot smell.
The flow of blood will carry love I cannot touch,
The senses of the body useless in the midst of
Such abundance as will soon be here, the praise
From birds and trees, from heart of hive of bees,
Lifted by the dancing of the tilting Earth
As life appears again— flying, crawling, shining
Translucent as the presence of the warming sun.

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