Untitled

Spring shimmies in with her birdsong,
And mild air, and crocus shoots. Slut.
Pity poor Winter, ushered harshly aside,
In favour of climes more indelicately gaudy.
With frost still on her waiting lips
And humanity frozen through exhaustion,
The proud sunshine melts her snowy spell:
Ambitious - waiting - dethroning.
But seasons change, as so will she,
And Winter laughs last once more.