Warm Day in March
March has gifted us one day
that we could mistake for June.
Out of the bottom drawer come baseballs.
I pack a soda in my mitt.
Along the trail, a dozen blooms
are just as confused as we are.
So it’s a lie.
But look who’s telling it.
The forest, the hills,
the ballpark where
we’re the first to arrive.
The others must be victims
of the only truth they know
and staying in.
Canadian winds usually run
these bases this time of year
but now it’s kids.
Older faces scowl from windows.
So it’s a freakish day.
No need to be freakish about it.
the world could well revert to form,
as a blizzard blast or two
clears the playgrounds of all life.
But now we take the day for what it is:
the perfect excuse to smash
a ball or two over the fence.
We’ll grow old in time.
The weather will be waiting for us.