Oh For Spring
Not a sliver of green to be seen on the land,
The damp heathered slopes portray the dull shades of tan.
"Oh, it’s not so bad," my friends do proclaim,
"At least the day’s sunny, we could be drowning in rain."
But the jest falls short, as we look to the sky,
White flakes are descending, and the wind whips on high.
"I could live with the rain," I exasperatedly bemoan, “but at this time of year, do we have to have snow?!”
So I’ll bundle up warmer, for a few days longer yet, and grumble about the tan grass, and the muck and the wet.
For spring is patient, it comes not at my behest,
And my hope for green things will someday manifest.
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