Spring Already, Spring

I like my wool sweaters
Really I do
But by this time of year
You’d think I’d be through

Record cold temps
The weatherman tells me
So of my wool sweaters
I’m not yet set free

I have cotton blouses
And tee-shirts galore
Shucking the heavy stuff
That’s what spring’s for

Grey, beiges, and blacks
I’m so sick of these hues
I’m ready for paisley,
Pinks, and bright blues

Daffodils have blossomed
Robins have appeared
But I’m still wearing wool
Sorry, but that’s weird

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In Hot Water

Soaking in hot water’s
Supposed to be bad
But when winter weather
Starts making me sad
I have a nice bathub
For which I am glad

I fill the thing up
Every night before bed
And sit down and soak
Till my skin turns all red
So that sleeping with shivers
I don’t need to dread

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Snow in November?

Snow in SC
On November one
I do not think
That’s very much fun

Close the windows
Turn on the heat
I do not think
Winter’s so neat

My nose is running
My feet are cold
I do not think
On winter I’m sold

Put on a sweater
Dig out my mittens
I do not think
With winter I’m smitten

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Too Little Too Late

A wedding in Puerto Rico
Would have been fun
By this point in winter
I’d like some more sun

We wanted to see
A cousin get hitched
But due to the weather
That plan got ditched

Flying this weekend
Had been the goal
But we ended up with
All this stupid snow

Winter storms brewed
Snow here and snow there
Flights were cancelled
About everywhere

We got to the airport
And waited and waited
That outfit I packed
Began to get dated

E-ticket in hand
Was still not enough
We still had to check
A bag of our stuff

The security gate hurdle
Was hard to believe
A longer line of people
I could not conceive

Then we ran with our luggage
Not my best skill
We ran really fast
We tried hard, but still

The door had closed
When we got to the gate
We waved at our plane
Two minutes too late

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A Road Trip Quip

My first was a Torino-Ford
But now I drive a Honda Accord

Thinking about my car today
From the shack it takes me away

Accord is packed from roof to floor
Making it hard to open the door

Eleven hundred miles or so
Is a long way for a car to go

So we return to our winter home
But next spring to Vermont we will roam

Not much of a poem, but give me a break
I’m on a road trip for heaven’s sake!

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The Travellin’ Shoes Blues

The greens of summer
Have turned to autumn hues
And colder nights
Offer some distinct clues
Yep, it’s high time
I don my travellin’ shoes

I love it lots
But the shack’s got no heat
So if I sit here
On my stubborn cold seat
I’ll need snow boots
For my size six feet

So I will leave
My beloved shack
But fear not, Vermont
For I will be back
Next year in May
If all goes on track

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Weather Pleasure

A poem about weather
Oh, what a bore
But all those cold temps
I did most abhor
When winter lingered
And lingered some more

But now it does feel
Like spring has begun
So venturing outside
Can actually be fun
When it comes to spring fever
I am second to none

And with spring having sprung
You know what that says?
Summer cannot be
Very too far aways
And that is the season
That gets my most praise!

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