Too late for winter
Too early for spring.
A strange land in between
Landscaped with grey clouds
Banking the horizon
And stark branches
Fighting the sharp winds.
But like the promise of March 21st
Spring is there
Peeking out from white patches
Melting off roofs
Squirrelling its way across the lawns.
We're only waiting
For the official announcement
From that harbinger of the season
The robin.
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