HOMAGE TO MARCH

Calm?  With the wind?
He'll have none of it.
He says he rules the sea
And carries houses on his back
Like pink clouds.
He can hurt,
And he's proud. . .
(Here's a shroud 
He laid once.)
And a dunce
With a pointed cap
Is his agent-
Making appointments
Incongruous.
Not calm.  Mad.

			Lucille Hamilton