March is deceptive every year
Luring us with each bright day
Into thinking, Spring is here
Then taking Spring away.
With howling cachinnations
Covering everything with snow
Removing all indications
Winter was about to go.
After February any weather will do
Uncertain as March can be
Knowing Winter's almost through
Brings its own reprieve.
Summer may slip by with an air of legato
But March mesmerizes with bursts of staccato.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem