February
February 11, 1987
When the piercing shriek of crows Shatters the brittle air And ice prevents the brook From going anywhere, Hepaticas are not Discouraged, slumbering Deep beneath the snow, Waiting, like me, for spring.
When the piercing shriek of crows Shatters the brittle air And ice prevents the brook From going anywhere, Hepaticas are not Discouraged, slumbering Deep beneath the snow, Waiting, like me, for spring.