The Ides of March
Beware the Ides of March he said.
Words dripping with superiority.
But the death can be a rebirth,
reincarnated with a new sense of purpose.
The sun made short work of treacherous ice today,
even the ice that seemed to have me stuck fast in a foul way.
And I am starting over, a new leaf.
A better father, a better worker, a better man.
