March

March, carried my mother, carried my father, into this world.

I have a lot to thank for March, without whom I'd not be here

Cold mountain stream

My body submerged within

If birth were so simple, I sink my shoulders in

Afterwards, standing on the rocky ledge

The sun warms my surface

But I remain cold within

As if rebirth were a ritual

 

April, Fall, Leaves fall down

April carries me into the world

Autumn - she told me it was her favourite month

I always took it as a compliment

Now my baby will be born on the cusp,

of winter.