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Feb Fatale

alone and brave so proudly he waves born against frosty Wind fragile, solitary Sprout doesn't he know come one fatal Snow or one life-crushing Storm that he'll surely be snuffed out?

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John Heck

Date: 1/24/2009 12:15:00 PM

Clever and witty, Donna. This poem made me smile and ponder it's underRlying meaning. Hope you're having a great weekend. Peac always, John

Brian Strand

Date: 1/22/2009 11:31:00 PM

Very amusing Donna.Rgds Brian & thanks for your welcome comments

Elaine George

Date: 1/22/2009 4:40:00 AM

You paint a vivid picture with this one, Donna. Great writing! and thank you for your kind comments on 'The Rose and The Thorn' Love and peace, Lainie

Kristin Reynolds

Date: 1/20/2009 3:00:00 AM

I love this, myu spirit is February, and I'm almost certain he knows his chances, and doesn't care - either way. ;) Excellent poem filled with wisdom, love, Kristin

Michaela Payne

Date: 1/19/2009 7:22:00 PM

I like this I can picture it, it always seems like when the sprouts come out there's one last blow of winters chill. Wonderful write, thank you for your kind words on my poem, it's much appreciated :) Blessings, ~Michaela~

Daver Austin

Date: 1/19/2009 6:32:00 PM

I like this one, Donna. Puts me in mind of the birds and squirrels digging in the snow for just one sprout to feast on. This particular winter in Michigan is endless. Good write. Love, daver

Judy Riley

Date: 1/19/2009 3:24:00 PM

The image of Utah, the crops and plants always get ahead of the last frost, well put in your short but discriptave poem. A joy to read, still gives us hope for warmer weather when anything sprouts. Nice work, creative. Judy riley