Spring leaps in
And pirouettes with joy -
The buds poke out
Into the new-found warmth.
Old Winter's left behind
And soon forgotton
If the weather holds.
The season drowns
The new life found,
and only mud remains.
Thus God's humor
Does astound us.
And we ask, 'WHY? ',
But I don't think God pays attention.
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Comments about this poem (God's Humor by Fred Babbin )
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