The skies are frigid, a cool cobalt blue,
Winter won’t leave, we know that much is true.
As I lay in my bed with my eyes closed so tight,
I think of a warm spring all through the long night.
But then I wake up and look out the door,
I sincerely believe winter will be many weeks more.
Every day that passes spring should be in the air,
Where is it you ask, this really isn’t fair.
The air is still frigid with snow in the sky,
It will be here shortly you say with a sigh.
Yet another day slips past and you still hope it comes soon,
But by the way that it looks it won’t be until June!
Frigid
The Zen Hiker 