a short taste

of Miss Spring, brief

bittersweet

not enough

to wet my whistle

or wet the thistle—

you’re not strong

enough, yet

Old Man Winter won’t

go away—

Mr. Freeze,

you bastard

your winds whip

back to attack

our buds

just budding

your blizzard blasts

blacken my resolve

and whiten the

new green promise

your screaming sheets

make me pull

the wool back

over my eyes

I guess I’ll drive home now

with my white car

on a pavement sheen

that’s plasticine

whiskey warmed

no ice

just neat

a long taste

fireplace on

snuggled—

home is where

I want to be tonight