Pages of calendars
Have favorably flipped
We have finally slipped
From this winter’s grip
The barren bald trees
Hold Spring’s sure surprise
I want to see color
With these yearning eyes
Tulips in tantrums
From slow aching thaw
Fail not to intoxicate
With each breath I draw
Come Spring!
And remove
Winter’s heavy hand
And grace this place
For winter is bland
Dot the trees
Bright green
And the roses 
Lipstick pink
Come Spring!
Slow as Moses
It is Spring
I dare think!