Some one told me it is the first of March and that it is snowing outside, I’ve been so busy making my miniature flowers that I haven’t even looked outside of my work room. But it sure looks like winter is really reluctant to let go. Woody, I no longer see green grass under my birch tree; I guess that caller who told me it was coming knew what they were talking about. Let’s hope the amount that they mentioned is wrong.
I Envy March
I envy March as it rustles your hair
And wraps you within it’s embrace
It blows in your ear
And plants kisses on your face
The way I’d like to do.
Oh, if only I were March
I’d be a gentle wind.