 The snow is low
And starting to slow; The temperature’s rising so flowers will grow. March forth! March forth! Old winter is heading back north! My face is pale, And my muscles are frail; Been biding in hiding – a somnolent snail. March forth! March forth! Old winter is heading back north! Rise up from bed; Put awake in your head; The birds are a’singing; the cardinals are red. March forth! March forth! Old winter is heading back north! Let’s play today And shout a hooray, A spring in your step as you whistle away. March forth! March forth! Old winter is heading back north! The skies are fair; There’s hope in the air; We’ll tackle our troubles with nary a care. March forth! March forth! Old winter is heading back north! (To anyone living in temperate zones south of the equator: apologies for this hemisphere-centric poem) My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 191: 146 words, TOTAL = 31,242; 28,758 remaining |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
November 2021
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