It's springlike outside Sprigs of green Pushing through unfrozen clods of dirt Everything coming alive before its time. So hard to hibernate - with a lack of snow as sunshine erupts through white clouds coloring blue skies and this month we call January. My brain knows better This land should be colder and wetter. My bones should ache My toes and fingers and nose should be stiff and froze. They aren't. I shall not be fooled, oh Cleveland weather gods! I know your wrath is coming And we shall be digging ourselves out still in April.