Sonnet 45 - Poem by Morgan Michaels
I'm sick of winter. It thickens your snot.
It's cold, it's dark, it's god-awful freezing-
but not quite crediting spring
I'm going with what I've got.
I can make that filthy snowdrift there
lift into the air, disappear
or bristle with flowers
but that would be a sorry show of powers;
Anyhow, they've got a near-
sighted groundhog in Staten Island
didn't see its shadow this year:
suddenly, my heart's in the highland-
Who knew there was a rhyme
for Staten Island?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You