March has come at last
For beneath the snowy creek
I can hear the water running fast
Breaking the ice like panes of glass
Little pockets form at first
Until a mighty torrent bursts
Not far from here
In the distance we can see
An old weathered hut built long ago
Where every year the pilgrims cheer
The grand arrival of nature’s show
The generous host of such delight
Is to the traveller a welcomed sight
So off to the sugar shack I will go
Too taste the maple on the snow
By Darryl T Davies