William Brendan McPhillips

April Snows

It often happens April will not bring
The kind of end to Winter we call Spring.
We look for buds to burst the bond of sleep
And strain to hear the pond frog peepers peep.

The signs are there, the sudden yellow splash
Of optimism in the daily dash;
The purple, blue of crocus near a tree,
To simulate the coming Summer spree;

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