Five Days Before Spring

 Old man,

It’s not so good for a greybeard

To throw the sleet in our eyes.

To show how your bad temper cries

Is naughty and a little weird.

Why so ferocious? Tearing down

The human souls, the roofs, the flowers.

And either howl with wind powers

Or cry the teardrops of a clown.

Don’t try to cover up your track

In vain. Although you think you really must,

They’re everywhere in the frozen crust

And coming to my poem back.

Five days are left before the spring,

My calendar has said about it.

And passed his kindest wishes to greybeard.

His Majesty no more is King.

Mind, February, She’s coming next.

Establishing Her own orders.

You’ll die and melt to running waters

But in a year resurrect.

Mahosha 2019