March 1st

March and it feels like seasonal grid-lock
To the East each morning black birds flock
I know it could all just fade to white
For there was no answer in the night
Nor in the day when blue chases the gray
And these words have no clue, no sway
Other than the thought loud in my head
Maybe I should have just stayed in bed
Hoping the bear hibernates a while longer
Until we are much wiser and bit stronger