Still it is cold, though there are signs of budding. April is around the corner.
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Tis March and readying Spring brides,
Great cold winds still blow by the Ides.
Shaggy-maned lion blusters, roars.
Boughs bent, breath shivers forth with force.
Twixt snow and Spring
Tornadoes fling
Hail flies, rains pelt
Blooms peek, snows melt.
Sunshine bounces a perforated line
Along the calendar page,
Possible storms remain forecasted, Spring
Detained in her icy cage.
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