Mark Bratlie

It was dreamed of in December as it came with Christmas cheer
It was expected after New Year as Valentines Day drew near
But March snow outgrew its welcome and was greeted with a sneer
Now this April snow is spiteful as I'm crying in my beer

So, do not speak to me of (you-know-what) as I may slide into a rage
I have not been warm forever and to Spring I'll turn the page
Thermometers have risen as part of Easter's spirit
But the thought that snow yet lingers...I really cannot bear it

What of the blanket on the ground that still appears so white?
There must be an explanation for that awful horrid sight
Springtime pussy willow fluff- yes, that has a pleasant ring
Or cottonwood explosions, a common summer happening

Dryer lint- that could be it as neighbors do spring cleaning
Or dandelions maturing early- toward that my mind is leaning
Yet, I sense your words are forming...no, I beg you please don't start
If your truthful words take shape they will expose your dark cold heart

Icy fingers grab my mind and I'm suddenly terrified
So I stuff my ears with white stuff to dam up the awful tide
I stuff with cottonwood explosions and pussy willow fluff
With lint from neighbors' dryers and early dandelion stuff

And I welcome timely deafness that blocks out the words I fear
But what's this awful numbness creeping through my ears! ?
Could it be the very thing that I do not want to hear?
I wish to ignore reality as I wait for Spring to show

In the meantime I implore you, do not speak to me of snow! !