What has become of flighty mistress Spring?
That season that delights in our dismay.
Twice now I’ve seen a robin on the wing,
each time it spread its wings and flew away.
Halfhearted harbingers are not the thing,
Do it right, set up a nest, and plan to stay!
Oft while, upon arising, it would seem
that spring has settled in to stay the course,
’til long ’bout noon, the skies begin to teem
leaded drops of freezing rain with frightful force.
Does anybody else here want to scream,
shout out for sunny days until you’re hoarse?
I’m sick of snow and shovel, sand and plow,
so focus! Give me crocus! Do it now!
© Sharon Anderson, 2015