March As A Lion

         I heard the roar echo and, in my boots, I quaked.

         The March lion was prowling, he was now awaked.

         February slipped away to avoid the beast.

         The rampaging brute hunted me to say the least.

         March circled my quivering legs, sniffing the air

         As I bemoaned certain fate; I'd been warned to beware.

         With a powerful pounce I was knocked to the ground,

         then mad March snatched my scarf with a snap-snarling sound.

         While this animal panted, cold breath stabbed my cheek.

         Angry paws pummeled my coat, I stifled a shriek.

         Mercifully, March tired and got wind of new prey.

         He released me, his tattered toy, and stalked away.

         Whew! The March lion is a fierce force of nature.

         Woe be to the battered brunt of his displeasure. ( 14 lines)