Spring struck again today without the sun
Dark cloud, damp wind, grey ice that ran like sweat
Yet there was no sense winter would forget
To pitch its hoary winds and freeze my bum.
I hopped the puddles knowing snow must come
This spring is just the lie we often get
That makes us flee to summer on a jet
Until the storms of March have fled, undone.
So head down, hopping mud and slush and ice
I picked my way bemoaning weather’s wrath
Abjuring sky and sun and stars and hope
For wishes are at best a failed device
But then I saw a friend astride the path
Who, smiling, hit me summer with one stroke.
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