A Toronto March

Spraaaaang
Dirty, dirty city spring
Butts and bags and dog remains
Embed every expired snowbank.

Sun too bright
Pants too tight
We’re all covered in dust.

But lo –
A crocus pokes up unexpected
Causing pale worker lambs electric
To shed their wool premature.

It’s finally over, they shout
We must renew, re-set, get out!
Yet.
Brown grass forbidden
And bulbs still hidden.

The greenest green is weeks away.
Winter leaves a mark.