March

March is shining. March is a symmetry.
March has been awake too long.
March is extended family, after too many years. March is sunlight in the leaves, tea in a lawnchair, feet crossed, head back and eyes closed.
It’s when your dark T-shirt soaks up the sun and you hunch your shoulders to transfer the energy right to your spine.
March is when things get started. March is certainly an endeavor, long but balanced.
March is social and eager, a teen-ager hitting his stride. March is baseball, in short sleeves and
March is hookey. It’s a long to-do list with next to nothing scratched off. It’s audacious and bold, but behind closed doors.
March has been trained to be polite, but doesn’t always remember.
March is that new song you just heard and can’t get out of your head. You’ll be lucky if it stays there.
March is complex – it’s two directions at once, choices at either fork of the road that are calling. March could use a road map.
March is an old friend’s laughter echoing in your head once again. It’s an inside joke that cascades from a chuckle to belly pain.
March’s equinox is the perfect metaphor. March is in the pen of the greats and the songs of the ancients. It holds more inspiration than all of winter combined.
March is batting third, just ready to jump on a hanging curveball. It’s a nice hamstring stretch, energized blood giving muscles new electricity.
March is a dandelion chase. I’ve drifted and caught myself and been lost again.
March is a confusing calm, an un-quiet relaxation and a conscripted vacation. March has already built a little steam.
March has been winning at the black jack table, but isn’t quite ready for craps.
Don’t confuse March as a preview – it’s the real deal.