Almost Sprung
ALMOST SPRUNG
Cheek and chin begin to thaw
Face is bitten now no more
By the wind’s sharp tooth and claw
Robins sing from branch-bare bush
Ducks scrape hopefully in the slush
Into the ice their beaks they push
The birds are not mistaken
My face’s no longer aching
Winter’s grip is shaken
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
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