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  • March, finally here,
    Another Sunday into Monday
    Snow system,
    Promising another 1-3, 4-6, 5-8
    Time will tell for sure.

    Its March, and as I trudge through the
    Snow laden path,
    now packed hard
    weaving my way through the woods.
    Something is different
    within the snow's silence.

    It's song, unheard for way too long
    A song that lifts my eyes,
    in the snow covered tree top,
    A lonely redwinged troubadour sings out for others
    Who have yet not arrived
    But time, too, will bring them.
    I greet him with a smile.
    It's March.

    * photo from Wish I could have captured my morning troubador with my own camera
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