I’m restless, it’s that time of the year,
Life is muted, dull is here,
I say once more that spring is near,
It must be on the way.
To the river and around the bend,
Up the mountain, only to descend,
It does me no good, this cold must end,
It isn’t meant to stay.
Everywhere is muddy brown,
And drab colors from sky to ground,
Signs of life are scarcely found,
The very light is gray.
And how I yearn to once more be free,
To shed these clothes, and just be me,
To go into the world carefree,
And feel a sunny day.
But it doesn’t come so still I wait,
We northern folk, it is our fate,
This cabin fever, when spring is late,
Or winter wants to stay.

JDoyle