Thaw

 

 

Yesterday’s porcelain glaze of frosted snow,

A pale sun veiled in gossamer mists,

Childhood joy at all this, for some, persists,

As does the disappointment of the thaw.

Not sun, but rain proves to be the traitor

Washing away so many sledging hopes,

So the sister sighs while her brother mopes

Having been told, “Not now, perhaps later.”

Such is the lesson that’s never learned,

No matter how convenient the cause

Delay cannot postpone the melting snows:

An abandoned sledge is the moment spurned.

 

Spring will come soon enough, then many will say,

“I’m looking forward to a summer’s day.”

 

             Dave Alton