February Spring

Winter definitive winter 
wears its warmth but too well
middling out a whimper
ringing sun-shining bell

Unpaid latitude tolls
sit in kitchen counter dust
the greening grass rolls
as carpeting must

The cold crayon's melted
at the pen drains its ink
hibernations unsheltered
too soon start to think

In doubt of long days
slumbers miss dawn
gentle life plays
on meadows, a fawn