March 31st

The 31st of March:

A cold insistent rain swells the buds.
Swamp maples begin to redden, a scarlet
that taunts the corner of the eye.
Lichens swell and fur the oak boughs.
In Paradies Hollow, a mourning cloud
idles past like an animated kerchief haunting bare branches.   Look: the wood
cock rises in feathered desire.

Green uncoils pressed against earth,
grasses, moss, bulb spears pricking up,
the tiny leaes of pesky chickweed.
the first slug of spring extends itself
like a yawn across the sand.   My next
year splits open to show its first color.

.....Marge Piercy

I just happened to pick up this poem and had quick connection.   My official birthday is March 30.   However my mother always said the birth certificate was in error, so it was kind of a family joke for me as a kid to have two birthdays, double pleasure, etc.

Well from about age 11 - age 14, my father regularly took me and some friends to Bear Mountain, NY for my birthday.   It was an outdoor time, with climbing hills, running in the woods, and generally being boys out and about.   All my friends thought it was pretty cool.   Well back to the poem, one March 30 or so, we had had a blizzard.   We still went to Bear Mountain, but boy it was a different winter kind of birthday.   One thing about that age, you would never feel cold in winter if you were out having fun in the snow.....kind of a miracle of the mind.   I believe that wintry birthday we built a pretty fancy igloo out of blocks.

Another time at Bear Mountain in the winter with my parents we watched (live!) the ski jump.   That was really scary and the fact that human beings would do that was so far beyond my belief that I wondered if they were really humans like us.

I once returned to Bear Mountain in my 20's with a girl friend.   We had a great meal in an big old WPA type log lodge.   For some reason, we were almost the only people.   It was kind of uncomfortable with the wait staff hovering around because there was nothing else for them to do.

Birthdays did seem like the beginning of the year.  I could even say that back then I felt the next year begin to split open and reveal at least its adolescent beginnings.

BTW, this March 30 I can officially collect full Social Security.   As the next year splits open, I can sense its color.   But as yet, the reddish rust brown is more an aura than a picture.