It’s “officially” spring. But if you live in an area like I do, it looks more like winter.
I’ve been thinking about this particular poem for the past few days now as I’ve watched most of my friends complain about the lack of sun and warmth and the fact that there is still too much snow happening this late in March. We have daffodils sprouting like weeds, green growths pushing through the snow, and the chirping of birds – all telltale signs of Spring. And yet… still it snows.
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.