Overhead the sun is wan
More snow is forecast; I declare
It’s enough to drive us poets spare!
I’m tired of wind and frost and snow
Can’t winter take the hint and go?
My clothes and boots are old and tired
Leaving this poet uninspired.
Three days into spring but no
Last night we suffered yet more snow
These whirling blizzards are unkind
The term “snowed under” comes to mind.
How those polar winds do blow
Giving our cheeks a healthy glow
Or is it that we rage inside
And our burning anger we can’t hide?
(c) Poet in the woods 2015
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