Late-Winter Storm
Clouds, flat as irons, and just as grey,
Clouds, flat as irons, and just as grey,
Topped with swirls of mist, smooth the pale sky,
Leaving behind the impression of a warm spring day.
Tomorrow's snow is palpable as a sigh,
Encouraging sap to stir and songbirds to nest.
I, listening in delight, deplore late winter's lie,
It's ineffable allure never fails to test
Those fragile hearts, who through resilience win—
In the end, when winter dies, they're summer-blessed.
(c) 2017 by Hannah Six
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