It’s late March and the wind blows high

Seems like spring will never awake,

A snow flurry and some sleet came by,

And left a little mark for winter’s sake.

Bright yellow over the bird feeder creeps,

As the finches change plumage anyway,

Cold wind through their half-molt seeps,

Dead feathers drop, color has its say.     

Vernal equinox has come and gone,

Earth’s tilt shifted past equal

Daylight conquered darkness’s tone,

And now awaits the summer sequel.    

Spring should come very soon,

Kiss everything with warm rays,

And a mellow glow of mirror moon --

We’re soooo looking for better days!

© 2014  R Leland Waldrip