How fine it is to sit a while
And watch the mirth of March beguile
With smile and sunbeam flustering
Dear old man winter’s blustering
Yon skyline cannot long contain
The resurrection of Today
So too, winter cannot confine
For long the song of Spring-strung vine
And in her dance of green and gold
Time forgets it is growing old
As moments don the eager sky
Of spring urging winter goodbye
With sun-spun finesse she traces
The hard lines of his disgraces
Soft upon pond, yard and limb
She begins to temper him
For winter cold cannot resist
The joy of being laughter-kissed
Thus, warmed with willing smiles and tears
In spring's kind arms he disappears
© Janet Martin
This is lovely, the images and the poem itself.
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thank-you:) we are s-l-o-w-l-y beginning to feel its undoing:)
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