March Poeticus Poem by Martin Ward

March Poeticus

March, the month
when heads that dared
defy nature's bitter sleep,
stand proud
above the faded snowdrops
and crocuses.
Pheasant-eye narcissi;
white amongst the blankets
of yellow which excites the eyes
of walkers, dead poets
and living ones.
In Lakeland fells,
or against all odds,
where heads protrude
through dumped tyres and garbage.
Around us, ubiquitous swells
in cultivated suburbs
and swathes of municipal saffron:
trumpets that herald the spring.
Heady scented in their crowds,
if one should venture
cat-like in their midst.
Who can resist
March Poeticus?