THE FIRST OF MARCH.

The First of March

Snow falls on the first of March.

It was warm yesterday, but seasons change

Temporarily and sometimes change back.

It is coming down hard.  The snow is white

And large and flakes all look alike. 

An old man is strolling through his garden,

Looking at all his vegetables turn into nothing

More than piles of garbage that return to

The earth.  The seasons vary in different parts of

The world, as if they know nothing of stability.

Sure they know of change.  Sure they know how

To make a grand entrance with rolling black or gray

Clouds and fierce winds that rip through your skin

Like a knife and are bitterly cold. 

The time is ripe for staying inside.  For having

Cocoa around a hot fire.  The fire is hypnotizing. 

There is a homeless man on Fifth Avenue that

Waits for a place to stay, wearing long jeans

And a winter coat.  He lost his boots last week.

Sometimes he gets visits from his mother or

His grandchildren, but they purposely stay away

And do not offer any money or any help.

It is the sad reality of life.  There is hardly any

Help besides a few dollars here and there;

And a drunken dog who follows him around

Looking for bits of food.  A lot of dogs are

Homeless, he thinks, trying to console himself

About it.  He pictures himself in a warm house.