This poem by Emily Dickinson leaves me praying for March throughout the winter. Well, it’s finally here. And here’s the poem for your viewing pleasure:
Dear March-Come in-
How glad I am-
I hoped for you before-
Put down your Hat-
You must have walked-
How out of Breath you are-
Dear March, Come right up the stairs with me-
I have so much to tell-
I got your Letter, and the Birds-
The Maples never knew that you were coming-till I called
I declare-how Red their Faces grew-
But March, forgive me-and
All those Hills you left for me to Hue-
There was no Purple suitable-
You took it all with you-
Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door-
I will not be pursued-
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied-
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come
That Blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame-
I don’t know why there are a whole bunch of hyphens. Ignore those; that’s not how it is in my book of Emily’s poems. I just love this poem. The way she personifies the months and the trees “The maples never knew / That you were coming, – I declare! / How red their faces grew!” That is probably my favorite line in the whole poem.
Last year, I kicked myself for not appreciating March like Emily does in this poem. I spent all winter reviewing that poem, just looking forward to March and the changing of the seasons, when it suddenly passed by me without even saying goodbye. This time, I plan to enjoy it.
Today brought my dog’s birthday. He turned eleven years old today and it’s scary that he’s really getting up there in years. He’s laying right next to me as I listen to Psapp (a band I just found today), text Robby, read Emily’s poetry, check my facebook and write this blog entry. He’s in his own little dreamland and kicks every now and then. I can’t believe that it has been 11 years since that day that I was five years old and we went to visit that litter of eleven puppies. One of Reggie’s sisters wouldn’t stop licking me, and I wanted her, but my mom came out of the sea of puppies with Reggie in her arms, and we never looked back after that.
Other than that, today was any other day. Yesterday Robby (you, reader, might as well be aware of my boyfriend’s name, since I will probably be writing about all of our adventures in the future) and I built a snowman out in my front yard. The snow was the perfect packing snow, and Robby rolled a ball around until it turned into the huge base for our snowman. From there, we messed around with my brother’s dog and tackled each other because, in the snow, nothing hurts. Amidst the tackling, snowball-throwing and occasional kiss or two, we managed to finish the snowman. Well, not totally; we still have the to put stuff on the face and give him arms, but the framework is standing securely in my front yard. All we have to do is get our butts out there to finish it sometime this week. That should be no problem.
I’ll miss the fun times in the snow Robby and I have had, but I won’t miss the white stuff once it’s gone. March is now here (come in!) and I can’t wait for that first real warm and mild day where the birds are out and I can finally open my window without a risk of catching pneumonia. That first day where the birds singing accompanies a chorus of dripping icicles and drainpipes is my favorite day of the year. After that day, I look forward to when our lilies pop up again. I can’t wait for that, either.