Spring's Fancy... Poem by david lessard

I lied the other day. I said that Spring was here.
It's not. I see out the window, eight inches of snow;
I should have said...that Spring is near,
I jumped the gun, inserted foot in mouth...you know.

Two days before it's officially here. The snow may melt,
it certainly looks as if it's here (the snow) to stay;
but that statement was emotion, a thought of what I felt,
who knows what tomorrow brings, it may be a sunshiny day.

Spring is not here, okay, so don't put you're hopes too high,
we are fools and made for suffering, the wishful seasons;
whether it be weather fair or foul, we may laugh or cry,
for whatever comes our way, for whatever reasons.

I'll enjoy the scene at hand, I like the sight of snow,
I like the sight of rain, and love the sunshine too;
I think that I could be all right just anywhere you know,
whether skies are dark and gray or wether they are blue.

But Spring is right around the corner, hiding like a child,
and the bloom of flowers and the buds of leaves are there;
whether winter shows it's face or not or gets a bit too wild,
Spring is waiting, just to pounce, releasing perfume in the air.