A softly blowing wind

March is a month of new beginnings and excitement. The voices that answer children's attendance calls are at their bravest in March. But many students are also absent due to sickness in the month. Strangely, I often find myself falling ill during March, just like many others. After a long winter, trees must bloom without nourishment. Sprouts must push through the soil with all their energy. Grandmothers who endure the winter may suddenly fall ill, and healthy children may catch fever.

Falling ill on a bright spring day can feel isolating and lonely. Three students were absent from the class, and my children couldn’t attend school due to sickness. I’d like to introduce this poem to comfort those sick and alone, feeling as though they are stranded on an empty island while others carry on with their busy lives.

After much suffering, a sick person finally falls asleep at dawn thanks to someone who stroked his forehead from afar. I sincerely want to believe in the poet's wish and interpretation. I would like to to hold on to the poem like a wet towel and hold on to my feverish forehead. Because it is March. Because even the tough month will soon pass.