To Name The Season Poem by Amy Bengtson
To Name The Season
Spring isn't yet.
Only one robin has been seen
Boldly claiming his old perch.
Winter is over.
The garage is no longer the
Second refrigerator.
This is a different season.
This is a season of anything can happen.
We wait.
We hope.
We dream.
We wonder.
But Spring isn't yet.
Tuesday, February 21, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: anticipation,seasons,spring,winter
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4/25/2024 11:28:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
