This is an ode to cautious optimism, inspired by the Sylvia Plath quote: ‘In March, I’ll be rested, caught up and human.’

In March

The sun will awaken.  The ground

will dry out, just a little.

Bees will return, a few butterflies

too, pale wings reflecting

delicate spring light.

In March

I’ll notice.  I’ll take a moment

to look at apple blossom, at the

detail contained in each pink

flower.  I’ll keep minutes in each day

for wonder, at all of it.

In March

I’ll take my time.  Sunday mornings

will roll out lazily with tea and

and easy joy, our dog stretched long

on the unmade bed.  We’ll let her

sleep, her back rising in gentle waves.

In March

I’ll rest.  My body will gradually uncurl

and I’ll stretch towards the sun. 

There’ll be pain, but not much.

I’ll remember who I am. Words will

fall easily into place on the page.

In March

The sun will peek, then blink

behind clouds. Petals will

appear then fall. There will be

joy and there will be ease.  The world

will continue its slow pirouette.