by Bill Cavanaugh, Becketwood Member
Lest time be lost
In the risky spring,
It's hide-and-seek
With the sun and frost.
To run the risk
They all agree—
The worm, the bird
The bud, the bee
The speedy squill
Is up and out
And waiting for
The daffodil.
A silent worm
Should hold his peace
And hope to land
A summer’s lease,
But he can’t resist
A look at the light
And rears his head
In the early mist.
Then the strung-out worm
Plays tug-of-war,
Not hide-and-seek,
With a robin's beak.
Then after a while
The hive grows warm
And the ice must sweat
As the workers swarm
In pollen dust;
But spring can play
A waiting game
And won't be rushed
Along its way.
So snowdrops droop while birds digest
The early worms in cozy nests.

Endless grayness, ice
Than sun, mild breeze, joyous hope
Dashed by March blizzard.
Great Bill! I am chuckling and waiting for the spring rush.