Winter, you can leave now.
Your colorless layers are uninviting.
The chill you bring frosts the air.
Your icicles wait to slice.
Drip drop as a voice.
Under coats droplets coil.
‘Tis a spine’s test of endurance.
Cold puddles do amass hither toe.
This landscape lends to dreary
~ spring appear ~
We bid thee come.
We welcome thee earnestly.
Whilst anticipate spring’s arrival.
Early March to crown Mother’s king.
March to offer a bouquet at ones door.