The dead of winter is upon us,
The bare trees and bare roads.
The asphalt hidden by farms of snow,
The sky aged like charred goads.
Six weeks of this winter behind us,
Six somber weeks to go.
Six degree temperatures above or,
Six cold degrees below.
Mother, why do you inhibit us?
Make life dark and bitter.
Make our animal friends hibernate,
Make your nature jitter.
Mother, oh, please grant a gift to us,
Make winter go away.
Make sun and warmth for our planet Earth,
Make a midsummer’s day.
Six weeks until the spring comes for us,
Six weeks until trees thrive.
Sixty degree temperatures in reach,
Sixty degrees revives!
The end of winter is near for us,
The strife is to believe.
The sign of no shadow makes it clear,
The omen of spring’s eve.