Winter Misanthrope Poem by Brian Purdy

Denied the street through many days
I stained me with tobacco
And suffered winter's quarantine
In a brick and mortar igloo.

Now, in March, I walk abroad
To elongate my muscles
While housewives throng the soggy streets
In search of cheap utensils;

At intersections, diesels snarl
And dirty snow still lingers
But here and there in flower-beds
Sweet buds expose their fingers.

Now, who will be a misanthrope
When spring wears white and purple?
I look away from what is cheap
Pack up my winter quarrels.