“March Waits in the Queen City”

A Poem by Judi and AL
White birch lay across a light powder-blue sky,
Thin arms sketching winter’s last signature.

The bright sunshine
tries its best to fool us—
all sparkle, all shimmer—
while the air still keeps
a quiet, cold bite at the edges.

March sits and waits for spring,
not impatient,
just knowing.

New Hampshire waits, too—
boots by the door,
mud season whispering promises.

And her Queen City—
Manchester—
tilts her face toward the light,
brave and steady,
trusting the thaw.

Soon.

The birch knows it.
The sun insists it.
And we—
we wait,
together.