THIS LAST DAY OF MARCH

First published in March 2021

March has almost
slipped from the calendar,
just one day to go, another
spring under my belt, another
31 days squandered.

Yellow shine wraps
late daffodils, the blue
of scillas, the fierce white
starshine of magnolias
in an unseasonal warmth.

March at its end, glorying
in a drench of light - forget
these jigsaw times, it's
a day to be thrown over
the shoulder like a cloak,

a day to be worn with a swagger.