March Lion
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2jfGIDiH6iHay7Ej3hfmFcRZiB15A8h7aklaiaSNLhreGT-HH0NoV2urwHhooW72knhhYcFDheZ2Yt5JzVYZIahurkwIF4F5YeEb5EiNK5fgUYsK-KfgFYfRmxCTZxFcOgqp0dxxVuCo/s320/longleat2+004.jpg)
Paws and claws to the door, breathing storms In it roars, the third month of this year Daffodils bow bright manes to the King of Spring. Each unfurling - leaf, petal, tadpole - belies the windchill Warmth is washing in. What is left of our snowdrops - dotted foam of an ebbed wave By night a waxing moon was pulling up tides, and we dreamt Our feet, unshod, pressing across tawny sand