Published on February 28 2006

ODE TO FALSE SPRING The birds were all atwitter in the bony, barren trees Oh, could it be that spring was here To rout grim winter's freeze? The dirty snow was melting Melting like our winter hearts I'd swear I heard once long ago That this is how spring starts. The temp'rature was sixty Yellow sun had pierced the gray The air felt kind as feathers, 'twas A picturebook spring day! No longer did I hate the world Yes, life again looked bright The stormy moods, the deep black thoughts Had just been lack of light! I heard the lilt of music Strains of violins and lutes I tossed aside my winter gloves Kicked off my cruddy boots. I opened up the windows and I dreamed of summer sports I even sifted through my drawers and pulled out skimpy shorts. AND THEN....... And then as I was gazing At my pasty winter thighs A voice came out of nowhere And it took me by surprise. "You call this spring, you sucker?" cried the ghost of winters past. "you really think you've seen the end Of winter's icy blast? "You think you're out in Tucson Or that you're some Georgia peach? You're living in Wisconsin, hon This ain't no Tampa beach." I turned to see this cranky voice~~ A pinched and gnarly guy His face was raw and red as rage H scratched his crusty eye. "For years you're in Wisconsin And you still don't get this thing? A day or two of warmth in March? That's what we call false spring!" "It's phony as a breast implant Like Britney, it's a tease It's fickle as some lovers And as fake as processed cheese." I reached up toward his collar And I pried his wool scarf loose "No wonder you're so grumpy, sir Your scarf is like a noose." He cackled then he coughed and Then he cleared his throat and spat His phlegm soared through the balmy air And landed with a splat. "Two days from now," he muttered "Wisconsin's days will not be nice! The wind will whip up from the lake That spit will all be ice." I felt the blue sky darken then My body shook with chills I hugged my sweater closer Tried to think of daffodils. "So tell me, ghost of winters past, If springtime now is false How long must poor Wisconsin wait To do a springtime waltz?" He said, "Dear girl you surely know That springtime here is cursed! Why, here it's normal if it snows On April twenty first!: "So keep you shovel handy And don't put away your coat Steer clear of all your Sunbelt friends 'Cause all they'll do is gloat." AND SO...... And so the old man shuffled off He gave a little wave, "Real spring will come by June, my friend 'Til then you must be brave."
From Mary Schmich's column in the Chicago Tribune.

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Published on #'Sconsin stuff

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