In Which It May Not Yet Be Spring

My lilacs bow like Atlas 'neath the weight

Of many inches of wet, sloppy snow.

It's far from Fortean to have, so late,

Such quantity dumped on us, but, you know

I'm really done with this. O Baltimore,

Weird city I shall visit just weeks hence,

Please tell me you shall have sunshine in store

And balmy weather. My wish is intense

To feel true springtime! But I should be glad:

The rototilling didn't go as deep

As shall be needed; moisture won't be bad

For this, our effort. Meanwhile I'll just keep

My snow boots and my shovel handy. Sigh.

Just months ago snow so gladdened my eye...