And now for my annual ode to fake spring.
Sn’Ode in Springtime
It snowed last night …. again!
I knew it was going to snow, it always does you see.
Even so, I had hoped it wouldn’t, so very silly me
I hoped we might get lucky. It was so warm last week
And the sun began to melt the ice in the creek
Still it snowed last night …. again!
The snow will melt today or perhaps tomorrow.
But that won’t make it warm but rather just the opposite
In fact, it will seem colder, I feel so very desperate
When I look at the people down south sunning
That they’ve run in the newspaper three days running
The snow probably won’t melt now until tomorrow.
It gets me every year, you know
The February thaw, the thermometer rising in a late winter tease
And my blood starts running like the sap in maple trees
And I’m thinking of the water and the boats and the beach
But, darn, the real good weather is still so far out of reach
It gets to me every year.
Getting out of bed is such a chore
Not so in winter or in summer or even, yes, the fall
There is so much that I like to do, I rarely ever stall.
But then there’s springtime mornings and I struggle to get dressed
Because I look outside my window and get so darned depressed
Getting out of bed is really such a chore.
Where do the find those poets?
The ones with rhymes and versus and ever joyous sonnets
And odes to kite flying and parades with Easter Bonnets
They talk of gentle rainfall while we suffer through a flood
They talk of new buds greening but they never mention mud
Phooey on the poets
I hate this time of year
Thinking of May Flowers does not make it better
When I have to suffer March and April and it’s colder and it’s wetter
And the dampness goes right through me worse than any Arctic blast
And with every springtime snowflake I cry out …how much longer can it last
I really, really, really do not like this time of year.
But, you know, this could be the last snowfall this year.
The sun is moving closer as each day draws to an end
And although it’s been moving slowly, it’s coming round the bend
One of these days, it will arrive and do its warm-up chores
And once again I’ll escape this joint into the great outdoors
Uh huh, this could just be the last snowfall this year.