Marching Out

All the signs are there. We have simply
overlooked them, failed to appreciate
their underlying meaning, taking it on
mistaken belief that the intermediate month
between winter and spring was simply
acting out its role as it must. But must
March be so belligerent? Must the month
trot out its most inclement disposition
day by day, leaving witnesses agape at
its audacity in holding spring hostage to
a recalcitrant winter? March, after all
should be non-partisan, its assigned role
that of transition. Perhaps resentment
simmers deep enough to raise its ire
that April is adored and March deplored.
This is an issue of its own making and
none should be moved to pity the month
that never hesitates to call up a rousing
icy storm to shake residents out of their
complacency in trust that spring will soon
arrive. Not if March can help it, and it can.
But no longer on this last day of its
wretched reign. Now the word is this
month must march right out and none 
too soon, releasing its hold on spring.
The simple equation being that March
must be gone before spring can beguile.