Mother Nature in her childish manner,
In her mischievous, frisky demeanor,
Millions of miles away from the sun,
Plays with the clouds, a day filled with fun.
She hides the sun and deceives the eyes.
Springtime is a myth so full of lies.
She sends the snow down for its last hurrah,
In rebellion to what all the prophets foresaw.
April arrives at the same time each year,
A harbinger proclaiming summer’s near.
But nature’s child has a different plan,
To blow it away with her big arctic fan.

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Robert L. Martin
almost 3 years

That's a neat word, "tantrum," Nelson. You come up with the coolest words. I wish I would have thought of that one.

Nelson D Reyes
almost 3 years


Lovely. Nicely done. Like. Thanks Robert.

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