Arlene Corwin writes

Waiting For Spring

Will spring never come?

It’s April and snowing.

Exceptional that! The snow thick and growing.

My husband says, “It’s only rain - white, but going.”

He’s just changed to summer tires.

Shame, if his car needed towing!

What strange times, I’m thinking.

With nothing to bank on, they stink weather-wise.

Planet’s awry, and each year of this clime,

The baddies are swelling, adding to crime,

Diverting their steam toward the groups they can spy on.

Oh dear, lying here and the snow keeps on piling,

But I keep on smiling, for snow has its charm.

It’s kind of beguiling, in spite of forewarnings.

A job in itself, this waiting for buds.

Proof will be games of golf, features ‘bout floods,

Flowers on forest floor, birds for the cat,

Preference for milky fare, meals without fat

And everything that comes with spring -

I’ll wait for that.

Still, April twenty third, rising snow right outside,

Wood stove prop full of birch, golf clubs untried;

Hot porridge for my snack. I need the balm.

Spring, are you holding back your patterned charm?

Almost spring --  Erik van Elven