Rie Sheridan Rose


March 17th rolls up again,
Banishing the Ides to their hole.
It’s the day of rivers flowing green
And music—and musicians—being born.
When everyone is Irish, no matter
Their nationality on the other
364 days of the year.
When there might be a leprechaun
Around the corner—
You never know…
When the fabled pot of gold could
Be hiding in the backyard…
St. Patrick’s Day is here once more.
I wonder what he’d think of
How things stand…