March Lion

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


  1. "... a waxing moon was pulling up tides". It goes from bare feet to the cosmos. Lisa, this poem, it is beautiful!

    1. It is my privilege to witness and share :-)
      Very busy getting a novel print ready, this blog is barely getting tended. Hopefully loss of quantity is balanced with quality - it feels like it is. xx


Post a Comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Unusual Koalas

The Week Of Clarke And Covid

Worth Every Ache