Though winter's demise has been foretold
since pagan solstice last month passed us
We're still shivering in the cold
with bitter winds that do harass us.
Red-winged blackbird has lost his song
yet epaulette still lights up his shoulder
and each of us still slogs along
through day time cold and night time colder.
Sounds of spring, I hear your ghosts
the cardinal's cheer in his throat sleeping
frost-killed grass like day-old toast
I strain to hear spring peepers peeping.