waiting for march

the snow is white 

the leaves are gone 

and the river is green and blue 

the dark current moves along the bank 

with speckles of frost forming 

like stars singing in the sky 

during the late hours of lovers

a pair of ducks swim 

diving under 

coming back up 

the snow is white 

the leaves are gone 

and the roses are red 

laying gently against our tree 

where I may converse 

with all I can’t see