The Ides of March, (Latin: Idus Martii or Idus Martiae), are upon us.
For me, March is a time of the loss of a lot of family members.
I look out my window, through the cold, at the beauty of everything being covered with snow. It looks so clean and soft, but oh so cold. It leads me to remember; under all of that white stuff, mother earth is pushing it's way toward Spring - blooming anew. Patience, it will be here soon.
Through Icicles To Rainbows
Then came the night of ice and snow;
when a great man felt the fatal blow,
as stark streaks of darkened grays
fairy dance on thick white rays.
With an icy stake
my heart has drawn
The thief crept silent to bestow
it's lethal claim to the spirits glow.
Grief thunders at unjust ways,
my soul cast icy sprays,
till caged tears quake,
and droplets spawn.
Ice forms on
The country brooks and streams overflow
from bursting hearts distressing woe.
My withering body lays,
as icicles pierce my days.
For my loves own sake
ice is withdrawn
Some times I gaze at the moon glow
as ice prisms shine in my window,
akin to fine cut crystal sways;
Heaven calls and ice obeys.
Each day as I wake
I accept dawn.
life goes on
Diana Primus, writing as Thorn M Engla 1/22/93