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Before the storms of March, we play in the month of love,
until the melting last days, then we pray in the month of love.

I want you and you want me and we’ll say in the month of love,
here are the directions mapping our way in the month of love.

So we buy hearts and cards, we engage the cliche in the month of love,
let’s forget the past, let’s fake the future, it’s all ok in the month of love.

I sprinkle the fields with chocolate and make hay in the month of love,
you scythe the crop with kisses and it’s harvest day in the month of love.

So come these days of ardor, this 28 diamond cache in the month of love,
shortest of all the twelve, ending before the skies gray in the month of love.

Bob Salsbury

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About this blog

D.F. Oliveria is a columnist and blogger for The Spokesman-Review. Print Huckleberries is a past winner of the Herb Caen Memorial Column contest by the National Association of Newspaper Columnists. The Readership Institute of Northwestern University cited this blog as a good example of online community journalism.

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