To spring!

splashy, sneering, the first flowers approach
don't look so smug, snow counters, rash
a dandelion slut wouldn't stand a chance
had i not let you near by my own damn will

Are we not oozing wounds to your white perfection?
the flowers reply with their smugness unchanged
you crumble as black dirt unfold in the sun
and we revel, and we tango (oh, how we tango!)

Now snow rolls its eyes and makes the flowers squint
the sun has nothing on me, never
see, i'm its mirror on earth, itself in cool white
and recall it is me who hide the dirt!

you do make for a fine parody, flowers admit
but you will die now, as we tango (oh, how we...)
while really, says snow, YOU have been dead for months
that is one way of looking at it

giggle the flowers, watching snow melt
thinking of all the winters to come
stepmotherly, indulgent thoughts
then, all those springs, all that tango!