A FICKLE SHADOW
That pesky rodent got it wrong
He predicted an early spring
But all I see are fields of white
That aren’t in a rush to leave.
Roads and walkways still need clearing
While schools need more snow days
And anyone who ventures out
Will want their long-johns on.
So dream, my friends, of warmer days
Until this cold spell snaps
And never again pin sunny hopes
On a rodent’s fickle shadow.
