Keeping in mind what the groundhogs forecasted, this might be a timely poem, but as I type this it’s still cold outside. The windows are hazy. The sun warms little, merely teases. However, snowy, winter woods are lovely, too; and words.
I am afraid to go into the woods, I fear the trees and their mad, green moods. I fear the breezes that pull at my sleeves, The creeping arbutus beneath the leaves, And the brook that mocks me with wild, wet words: I stumble and fall at the voice of birds. Think of the terror of those swift showers, Think of the meadows of fierce-eyed flowers: And the little things with sudden wings That buzz about me and dash and dart, And the lilac waiting to break my heart! Winter, hide me in your kind snow, I am a coward, a coward, I know!
– Leonora Speyer