And then one day in mid-february,
itll rain, sez I.
And youll be thankful for the eleven hours
o' day-light.
And a good lot of the street-grease-****-slush'll
wash down the storm drains.
Hell, you may even be able to call it "warm".
And obviously you wont be done
(its still february after all)
quite yet.
But itll feel like mornin'
which has its own perks.

Flowers smell just like stale wet snow,
sez I.