A long winter season, so far, with:
Balmy, rainy days,
Trips to Fenway on my Capricorn birthday,
December picnics, outside,
Rolling rivers,
Coffee that’s still iced,
Ever-present geese with bobbing heads (they won’t leave),
Confused trees looking around, breezing to each other, “Should we bud now?”
The corduroy jacket I wear in May, or September,
And flame sneakers that don’t slip on the ground.
I’ve made no hockey stops in the snow,
And no idle farmers have stopped by to say, “Hello.”
Balmy, rainy days,
Trips to Fenway on my Capricorn birthday,
December picnics, outside,
Rolling rivers,
Coffee that’s still iced,
Ever-present geese with bobbing heads (they won’t leave),
Confused trees looking around, breezing to each other, “Should we bud now?”
The corduroy jacket I wear in May, or September,
And flame sneakers that don’t slip on the ground.
I’ve made no hockey stops in the snow,
And no idle farmers have stopped by to say, “Hello.”
