Ides

Winter, beware!

The ides of March will soon

Arrive with a shout,

"Your reign is over"

At least here,

In the South,

Where not even

Your pink and gold

Tangled sheets of light

Streaming across the

Twilight sky

Can change our minds

It's over,

The toil and slog

Your icy fingers bring,

Gone, with one, warm,                                        Vernal breath,

Like ash caught up

On the breeze.

With flowers from the

Purple crocus in my hair,

I will carry news to

Our vilified groundhog

We aren't waiting

Five more days

Just to satisfy the calendar

Saint Patty's Day

Will launch the celebration

With so much green,

It just has to be Spring!