March: Year-day 61

        
                                       
                                           
March: Year-day 61

Lionizing the lamb, making a lamb
of the lion, stuffing the groundhog back
into his hole, March can spring an attack
of apoplexy on who I am, was, wish
I were, with the way it dumps the full dish
of yesterday or fills the empty one
of, say, today, greeting me with grayed sun,
then blistering with sharp snow I damn, dam.

However, I have decided to stay
inside, not because I'm afraid, but rather
because I've no need to face such a spate
of meanness to feel it, and disarray,
to deal with it.  I know its guises gather
praise, and where; I will not capitulate.

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