Spring In New Hampshire
The snow is still deep on the ground.
The temperature’s in the low teens.
The robin’s not making a sound.
The edge of the wind is still keen.
The longer I live here, the more I believe
That the deep freeze is followed only by sun burn
And skeeters that sting through your sleeves.
It’s something that Robert Frost knew:
Spring in New Hampshire
Is only a rumor
That just goddamn well isn’t true