March is the Cruelest Month
March arrives with icy glare,Claiming warmth is merely rare.Its winds, a sharp and cutting swath,Lay bare the promise of spring’s path.The hopeful buds, barely awake,Shiver beneath the frost’s cruel stake.March teases life with sun so brief,Then cloaks the world in winter’s grief.Yet, in this cruelty lies a test,Of resilience, of nature’s zest.For out of hardship,…