Obdurate Snow

Crusted with oil and soot,

These crags of late March snowfall that refuse

To go away though crocuses break sod

Lie sunning like a row of walruses.

No use to prod

With shovel, pick, or shoes

Their twice-refrozen icecaps. Taking root,

They hunker down, determined to endure

Every humiliation,

Firmly convinced that winter is for sure

And any thaw a passing aberration.

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