I remember the decorated board in my first grade classroom
but March always roared all month long,
despite how hopeful I was for the lamb:
a softening that wouldn’t happen until maybe April, sometimes not until May.
This year there is no lion at all.
the temperatures are record-breaking.
I already decided it would be okay
if the worst happened.
We stand on the deck in the thaw and watch the tips of trees turn green and bud.
You stand pretty close.
We talk longer than customary; it has been this way since November.
I feel conspicuous – rip away from you with a sensation like velcro
and head back into the apartment, make eye contact with your fiancee
who has nothing but joy on her mouth.
What I really wanted to say was this:
I am afraid that soon
children may have no lions to look for in March,
a largely forgotten mythology elders tell of