falling from overhead
in small, oblong, misshapen spheres
of a substance lacking definite shape
morphing and jolting with seizure
and unwittingly dodging obstacles
before hitting the ground

at its birth
the heavens darken
and take the lively color away
until all we are left with are shades of gray

as death is a natural part of life
this fluid afterbirth of the coming of spring
is a natural part of this night

until it is grounded
conjuring up life
melting the frozen dirt
turning into mud
that runs down the hills
in long rivers
over the ground that aches for spring
because it has been cold for too long

conjuring up smells
digging deep into the roots
of the few remaining blades of grass
as a catalyst
to find the fresh scents
that have lay dormant

it is march, after all
a time of transition
from barren iciness
to warm fertility

yet, knowing all this
i still pine for the sun's warm glow