It should be spring,
but death clings to branches.
Spiny limbs claw the air
trying to puncture the frozen
bubble of winter.
Brave oaks await the robin's resurrection song.
©Susie Clevenger 2013
Kerry over at Real Toads challenged us to write a poem about what this time of the year means to us. Recently I made a trip to Missouri and was caught in a spring snow. "April, Come she will..."
Comments
WE have the same bizare winter/spring her ~
K