<it’s been weeks since the last haiku.
you’d better keep feeding the wall
if you don’t want the mammonth to ’scape…>.
<something’s not right…>.
<look outside for once:
look @ the crisp frost on the grass,
the chalkwhite roofs>.
<no, no, no. it’s all wrong.
it’s march.
frosty february, fine;
but by march, spring has officially begun.
i love the frost, don’t get me wrong,
but e’erything has to go @ its right time,
& e’eryone knows march
is the time for the frost to get lost
& the birds to return>.
<You were happy a few years ago
when it outright snowed in march.
¿remember?
you were so pissed that the weather
squandered a covid-enclosed year
when few should be driving their cars
without leaving any snow,
& then as a last-second surprise,
march marched in & saved the year
with such a bounty o’ snow
several inches high
that lasted for o’er a week.
¿do you remember?>.
<yes, that was a saving grace,
but while march snow can feed the desperate,
it’s no match for december snow.
i don’t e’en remember
what i did with that march snow.
¿but the december snows?
with the mocha mint teas,
the peanut-butter fudge,
the red & green lights e’erywhere,
the weeks off from work,
wasted wasting dinosaurs in the eastern forest
or reading marcel proust…>.
<you still had that last year.
¿have you forgotten the wisdom of olde?
frosty march doesn’t spend december snow>.
<¿but what ’bout the mossy trees,
their leaves plump & green,
the grass flushing green
under torrents o’ rain?
the leaves,
the weeds,
the vines & ivy,
the brambles
& inedible berries…
¿do you remember?
i look outside my window
& see the firs are black,
backed by iron-pale cloud miasma.
don’t like the look of it,
don’t like the taste of it,
don’t like the smell of it,
i want to watch it come down>.
<you are the 1 with short memory.
¿does not march march on slowly?
¿have you already forgotten
our lord, october march?>.
<but we’re talking ’bout december march, here…>.
<& january march
& february march
& september march
& november march,
& soon there will be
april march,
may march,
june march,
july march,
& august march.
the month is still young…>.
but the poet & their inner demons’ convo was interrupted
by the arrival o’ a big, white seagull.
