Soft Sell

Spring struck again today without the sun
Dark cloud, damp wind, gray ice that oozed gray sweat
No sense was there that 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 some 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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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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