Of Winter's End Poem by Richard A. O'Connor

The old man's fury ceased
The lion, that docile beast, sleeps instead of roars

Late February ignores
The bitingly fierce savagery in January's chords

Hoping for a tiny respite
That might convert peppermint into a gentle cure:

The dawning of Spring

Early green buds unfold
Predicting fruitfulness untold to all for small effort

The thinnest of ice fades
As the progression of days trade TV for tree fort

The stingless wind gratifies
What once it tried to brutalize to begin the comfort:

Of Winter's End