And Crocus bows to winter’s end;
Yet, even as the snow is falling,
I hear the sounds of springtime calling.
Melting ice begins to flow.
A neighbor’s rooster starts to crow.
And Robin, singing to his mate,
Doesn’t care that spring is late.
So, with boots and parka on,
I sweep the porch and tend the lawn.
Then, upon the windowsill
Place a blooming daffodil.