From the notebook....

I was needing a post most dreadfully, so I hastily wrote up a poem. It is not fixed in anyway, and I have a feeling it is off beat, besides the fact that the last verse is in the "trying to find words to rhyme" stage. Therefore, I present you with this; an unpolished poem:

The snowbanks and snowdrifts,
Melt slowly out of sight.
All I can see now is dreary gray,
Like when day replaces night.

The black tree stumps look cold,
And every thing is harsh.
Gray and brown and black and white:
The colors of the month of March.

I see the smallest blade of grass,
Poking through the ground earth.
The news is quickly told around;
The house is full of mirth.

After that, a bud appears;
It be opens into a tulip,
Many plants follow its example,
'till tips of green,
Tips and tips and tips,
Can be seen.
Copyright/March 4, 2008