A roving (The Ides of March)

A roving

Springs first morning
Freshness unmistaking
The larks early call
Their whistling did befall

A roving along this wondrous path
I viewed a chiselled epitaph
Etched into splendid Larch
Read 'beware the Ides of March'

A soothsayers warning
Was unexpected this Spring morning
This is so nondescript
Had I stumbled upon a Crypt

This isn't a Roman arch
It's merely a tree of Larch
This is not ancient Rome
This is not a catacomb

Twas the 15th day of March
I found the secret of the Larch
Words weren't scribed by other factors
than a plethora of actors

It was the scene of a play
of Ceasers fateful day
where Brutus and Cassius
Did hatch plan to kill Julius

A roving first day of Spring
Where Butterflies Flutter, bees did sting
Down wondrous path i passed
Where Ceaser breathed his last

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