I was born in the March dawn, the sun shining lightly through snowflakes, welcoming the new spirit of an old soul.
I wailed to return from whence I came.
But the others encouraged me to stay. You chose this, they whispered. Continue reading
Ides of March
The Structure of My Being
How old am I?
I peer inside myself, deep deep down, but really, the first shallow answer to that question is the same answer after I’ve dived into the well of my soul.
I am 482.
Perhaps older, but in our strange culture of age and the importance of youth, this number will suffice. Continue reading
Eyes of March
Eyes look out, eyes look in
Can you really see my soul?
Can I really see yours?
I peer out from a sea of green
The color may cast the view —
of a light and airy hue.
Ides of March dates my birth 
I used to name it the Eyes –
Stretching mine large and wide.
I wonder if there’s more than sight
Through the eyes that we are given
Do we also get God’s vision?
Eyes look out, eyes look in
Do they have another role…
To find each other’s soul?
roughwighting 