March

Come March, pond edges thaw
first, and, reflecting the spring sky,
form a ring of watery blue around
the central snowcake, a perimeter
that, day by day, widens until
the balance shifts
and the float of wintry ice
sinks—sometimes with a single
whoosh that sends crows cawing—
the pond seeming, at that moment,
to burst into becoming
the sparkling sky
it mirrors, though, below,
it stays cold for weeks, the forbidding,
clenching season finally
broken but, at the pond’s dark bottom,
not forgotten.

 

About the Author

Mark Belair‘s poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Alabama Literary Review, Atlanta Review, The Cincinnati Review, Harvard Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, Poetry East, and The South Carolina Review. His latest collection is Watching Ourselves (Unsolicited Press, 2017). Previous collections include Breathing Room (Aldrich Press, 2015); Night Watch (Finishing Line Press, 2013); While We’re Waiting (Aldrich Press, 2013); and Walk With Me (Parallel Press of the University of Wisconsin at Madison, 2012). He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize multiple times. To view more of their work click below.

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