Even The Dog Hates March

Ahh, March.

Spring, but not quite.

The clouds hang over us

With their stockpile of cold rain,

Waiting for the perfect time

To make our lives more difficult.

The mud is everywhere,

Making gross sounds

As it is tramped through,

Making me sad as I walk

Ten steps into school.

The snow on the roof

Is beginning to melt

Turning the grey aluminum

Into a startle-inducing slip-and-slide,

Scaring the innocent dog

With anxiety issues

Into trotting around the house

And being on alert.

Ahh, March.

A decent month, but not quite.