Spring

Violent walls of black drift across cobalt skies

Trees twisted and mangled by turbulent wind

Rain in sheets of glass from heavens rush

Rivers fill with natures eroding water

In the silent aftermath,

Birds sing to a shining sun

Colts and calves dance in green pastures

Frolicking to the new days tune.

March

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March

Named for the God of War but Loki is your nature. Each year you bring the prospect of spring yet your deceit hides that promise under your cloak of white. I should know better, but you understand how much I need to believe your promises.

Beware the ‘Ides of March’; Julius did not heed the warnings and you repaid his arrogance with the cold steel of betrayal.

Now you say that you are the master of time and will move the sun to bring me another hour of light. But you’ve only robbed from the beginning to repay the end.