Dear March

snow on the maples - via Wikimedia

In my part of the Northeast, March came in like a lion with a roar of snow. 

So far, it has not been mad like a March Hare - but the month is young.

Let's start the month with this poem from Emily Dickinson that looks at the month when it is a bit older and there are some leaves and colors. 

Dear March - Come in -

How glad I am -

I hoped for you before -

Put down your Hat -

You must have walked -

How out of Breath you are -

Dear March, how are you, and the Rest -

Did you leave Nature well -

Oh March, Come right upstairs with me -

I have so much to tell -

I got your Letter, and the Birds -

The Maples never knew that you were coming -

I declare - how Red their Faces grew -

But March, forgive me -

And all those Hills you left for me to Hue -

There was no Purple suitable -

You took it all with you -

Who knocks? That April -

Lock the Door -

​