Spring unsprung

If April is the cruelest month

what title fits for March?

The rains have soaked the struggling sun,

the winds have blown the arch.

The hopeful seeds have dug down deep

into the fickle ground

while enemies of sunlight vye

and conspire without a sound.

Bunnyhops and lambkins springs

are apples of the eye

and yet if Spring is to prevail

Winter, first, must die.