The winds of my forebearers have cleared the way
to release the sun and the break of the day;
to awaken the morning even earlier still,
with the blooming of flowers, opening at will.
I bring with me nature, and the sounds that they make
I prompt the need for hoe, strimmer and rake.
This is the start of the season to come,
I am the month that can promise the sun.
The cold is retreating and falling behind,
my name is March, I hope you don’t mind.