Hey Siri, do birds have groins?

It’s the last day of March and I woke up to a snowfall so bright it hurt my eyes to look at it. I was instantly annoyed.

God, snow, go away, I’m sick of your ass.

By now I’ve usually planted some lettuce or kale in the gardens. Not this year. Our backyard is still a mix of cold mud, frozen weeds and shame. There is no joy in… mudville.

The winter won’t let go and I’m not sure why. Was it something I said?

I’ve decided to write a haiku to guilt the winter into leaving.

Aches to feed his young
Robin pecks at icy earth
Breaks back, pulls groin, dies

I hope my poem works. Until it does, I’m going to brew some tea, raise the thermostat, put on another layer of clothes and fill up the bird feeders. Thanks for reading. -Connie

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