THIS LAST DAY OF MARCH
First published in March 2021
March has almost
slipped from the calendar, just one day to go, another
spring under my belt, another 31 days squandered.
Yellow shine wraps
late daffodils, the blue of scillas, the fierce white
starshine of magnolias in an unseasonal warmth.
March at its end, glorying
in a drench of light - forget these jigsaw times, it's
a day to be thrown over the shoulder like a cloak,
a day to be worn with a swagger.