2nd Tuesday In March

The rain pouring from infinite whiteness
Soaking the black backdropp of bark. its
Brown veins with their
Green tipped buds, ready to burst.
The chilled drops carried on the
Cool breeze from the overcast sky,
Pours the life (that was sapped by winter)
Back into the frosted sludge.
The sky brightens with the warm honey likened
Glow of the sun, taking a quick survey of
The work ahead.
Then fadeing, back into the
Unfeeling whiteness.
Not yet ready to begin the task,
Still to soon.

by A . T . Perkins

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