First Day of Spring 2013

Cold wind blows
Across late March
Jack Frost’s last grasp
On his wintery domain
He battles young spring
With a steady frozen wind
That cuts through the core
Strips away each layer
Fabric and flesh alike
Tore at tendons
Slices bone and marrow
Pushing against progress
Leaving bodies in pain
Fingers no longer bend
And eyes ice over

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