A crow flutters down
Like a black, tattered rag,
Flattened by a March wind,
Whipped by a hard winter.
Yet with a buoyancy
Of other springs
Remembered,
Flies again,
Jauntily lighting
On a waiting branch,
Knowing time
Will bring
A softened earth.
March Wind by Florence Liberfarb
Copyright © 2005-2008 All Rights reserved
Florence Liberfarb writes poetry, short stories and plays. You may freely republish this poem for non-commercial use provided you follow the Publisher Guidelines and provide a hyperlink (electronic media) to the Wordly Web Site. You may not alter the copyright notice or edit the content of this poem. Please notify the author of your intent to republish. Commercial use of this poem requires written permission and payment of a royalty.
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Poems, Stories, and Plays byFlorence Liberfarb
