March 21st
by Michelle Davidson Argyle
When I was born, the snow came like a bag of seagulls let loose.
It must have seemed the clouds were cut to pieces,
the world falling apart to replenish itself for Spring.
Do you remember that day you came into the world
like a long-awaited storm in the desert,
the trees stretching their roots for just one drop of you?
You are the water they thirst for.
Remember that day you first held me twenty-two years and four months
after I was born? You must have felt I was a storm or a bird
that would spread her wings and vanish.
This is the month of lions left in the grass, their long necks
stretched to watch the birds fly toward storm clouds and stars.
You have taken me from the storm and sheltered
me like the end of March, like the lamb with her eyes full of Spring.