Middle March [POETRY]

​Middle March,
And the sun is shining full bright.
Middle March,
And we have supped once more with Saint Patrick.
Middle March,
And spring is blossoming all around –
The ants their hilly mounds are building,
The crawfish their crenelations.
Tender, silver-green leaves have appeared
On the muscadine vines,
Near as thin as the wings
On the new hosts of hovering dragon flies;
Bumble bees bustle in the azalea blooms,
The broad leaves of the fig tree spread out,
The little flowers of the blueberry bush droop down.


Lord, where are You in this world?
Are You not here, amidst the beautiful things You have made?