March, the month we rise from sleep
In a weary, crumpled heap.
All the aching
Seems to be a part of spring.
With the wind forever blowing
Sunshine, rain and sometimes snowing,
Makes your spirits rise and fall as the season has her fling!
It's the month of colds and "flu"
Not one family struggles thru
And office bills
Or a shot from some M.D.
With morale a sinking low
Back to bed you want to go,
But ponder o're the doctor's mounting fee.
There seems always lying near
One small bit of needed cheer.
On the table
If you're able,
Find that catalogue aglow!
Chucked full of plants and seeds
It's just the thing a person needs
To lift them from the depth of winter's low.
If you set your thoughts to planning
And go through the pages scanning,
You will find
Your nerves unwind
It's a magic sort of thing.
Then you sense it's all a game
For such exaggerated claim
Can only be a trap, and you're caught with dreams
But the pictures so alluring,
So prolifically assuring,
Makes you weaken
For you're seekin'
Some escape from hum-drum strife.
So you send an order fast
Before the sudden notion's past,
Then settle back in reality, for it's another faze of life.