Braid me a March clover necklace-

I don’t need a flower on each stem.

Your dancing fingers bring me luck-

With silver spider’s thread you weave a window.

Give me presents green and wild

And I’ll fold the sweet wind into a fan.


Kiss the spring clouds with our air-fan

And I’ll lasso the apple trees with our necklace.

We’ll be soft, gentle, and wild,

Blowing each dandelion from its stem,

Framing our faces with an ivy-leaf window,

Smiling horseshoes of good luck.


Our hands, four leaves of unplucked luck,

Our breath the scented season’s fan,

Our eyes a painted puddle-window,

A gem in nature’s fragrant necklace

Which wraps its bright blooms around the stem

Of a thin, newborn world, prematurely wild.


In like a lion, March wanders wild.

Heel-clicking, dancing like a leprechaun’s luck,

Gustily ripping flower from stem.

Under the rain showers, wet grasses fan,

Sparkling and twisted like a long-chained necklace.

Early March beats like a bird against a window.


But raging weeks have a short window

March’s beauty is not all fierce and wild.

While sharp breeze like a necklace

Chokes the first of March, late weeks’ wisps of luck

Soothe the harsh sting, still the fan.

Soft lamb’s ear petals smile from roughened stem.


March is our month- petal, root, and stem.

We see the year through its bright window.

Through the seasons we fan

Ourselves with its wonderful wild.

You and I, the March clasp of luck,

Linking together spring’s silver necklace.


My necklace of green stem,

Your breezy luck that weaves a window,

Framing the whispers wild, watching friendship fan.