First Spring

Go away, I say! Go!

This thaw in January is a muddy mess.
More snow, more shovelling, more
scarves more drippy nose and frozen
toes are still to come.

Such teasing is too cruel
refusing orphans excess gruel
is not so melodramatic so
cruel as this — this slushy hope.

And yet, we dopes, we know from bitter
springs of other hopes that
half-a-dozen scattered thaws or eight
still wait with pain to entertain. And freezing rain.

So, go! I say, Go!
And what’s the forecast?

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A(d) verse complaint

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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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