How February's flown:
One day to go
Till March should enter
And march right in.
But in he sneaks
On slippered feet
More of a shuffle
With hints of spring.
But he keeps back
Hid up his sleeve
To mix some winter
With practised tricks.
He stirs some snow
Infused with frost
Inside his cauldron
For us to drink
Yet martial March
Which seems so strict
Can not dismay us
With discipline
He can't hold back
The urgent thrust
Of waiting nature
That longs to burst
So bulbs will sprout
And buds will break
And leaves will open
Despite the cold
And birds will nest
And sheep will lamb
As winter weakens
Subdued by warmth
So silent spring
Will start to shout
From icy prison:
Now let me out!
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