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February, wet and drear
Rain clouds or snow flurries,
Often frosts, sharp and clear,
This the month which never hurries.
But there’s
hope as robins sing,
Aconites and snowdrops
peep.
Welcome signs of coming Spring;
Sluggish thawing waters creep
Frozen toes and fingers sting,
Bright wool hats and matching
gloves,
Lightening the same old street.
Noisy starlings, cooing doves,
Thoughts of sun, and distant lands,
Bring bright brochures, to
raw hands.
Thank you to Doreen Cooper, for sharing another of her seasonal
poems.
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