A POEM ABOUT FEBRUARY
AND/OR MARCH

Wishy, washy, wintry weather,
Creative thoughts I cannot gather,
As I don boots of fur-lined leather,
Barefoot on a beach I’d rather!

Down the road I shhlop and slither,
Then fall upon my ass and quiver,
Hungry crows are in a dither
If I am dead they want a sliver!

With ear unto the ground I listen,
To bugs ‘n earthworms I am missin’
Before I cease my reminiscin’
I dream that it’s green grass I’m kissin’