March has its own unique kind of harshness. Something about its particular angle of sunlight makes a part of you believe in Spring while at the same time its brutal wind slashes you with razors. The metaphorical lion.
This morning, while driving the backroads early, a bald eagle took flight from a light pole startled by my passing car.
Later, at dusk, hundreds of crows blowing about in the crazy wind, circling, caw-cawing to one another in mounting excitement. Spring is moving in their blood.
I decided to get my self a spicy shrimp boil for dinner. One of the waitresses, who I've seen in there many times, approached me with her phone and showed me some photos of Bill Pullman - the actor (and University of Massachusetts alumnus). She told me I reminded her of him and said that we're handsome. Aw shucks, I should have said, but I kind of laughed not knowing what else to say.
A little while later, a beautiful woman, who I've kissed in my dreams on a foggy, lonesome pier on the Jersey Shore, sent me a message complimenting my hair. The metaphorical lamb.
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