Michael Kurland

In March, when the tall trees bend
To the pressure of a hard east wind
And the bare earth lies moist and new,
I stand and marvel at this brand-new world
And wonder at its rebirth, and think of you
Standing somewhere thinking of me.

Now somewhere doesn't seem so far away
And it seems like I left just yesterday
And will be home tomorrow
Of course that isn't so,
But in March it certainly seems that way. Read More