Waiting for Spring

The mounds of snow are slowly retreating before days that are getting warmer bit by bit.
I can see frayed edges of grass that look like a bad hair day on an old man. It is
covered in mats of gray fungus like funky hair nets. The daffodils are still wrapped
tight in fists . No tip of green protrudes the ice cold garden earth. I long for yellow trumpets
that herald spring!