Ode to spring
To the Journal editor:
The snow it comes in cotton waves
In clouds of white and cold
A cloak of down upon the Earth
A blanket deep and soft
So quiet to pass across its breadth
Just footprints left behind
To make my crossing in this world
Of white, that lasts too long
Eternal spring where are you now
That winter had its grip
Upon this land that was so lush
And filled with the sounds of life