THE LAST WEEK OF FEBRUARY
We hear a cardinal’s nesting call,
Pussy willows raise furry paws,
Canada geese take a southern tack,
Syrup buckets are hung out for sap,
In soaring sweeps three vultures arc,
Peepers are piping in the marsh,
Forsythia’s buttery blossoms bloom:
Who knew that spring would come so soon?
Tropical storms move up the coast.
In balmy breezes we’ve doffed our coats.
Ash Wednesday, heralding Lent, is here.
We think that a verdant spring is near,
Although in New England we never know:
There’s always the chance of an April snow.
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