Officially, Spring began in March and
Summer is just a month away.
The cold temperatures linger on,
the few sunny days interspersed by chilly rains.
It makes one wonder what Winter looks like,
since it's been cloaked so well in Spring's clothing.
People, fooled by the disguise, have ventured out
without warm coats, and ended up trapped
in rainstorms wearing clothes meant for balmy
breezes and sunny skies.
Beyond the runny noses and watery eyes
lie stares, looking not so much towards Spring
and its warmth, but back -- back to promises
of easier times unfulfilled by masters
wearing Armani suits, in whose own hearts
winter has taken root. There, winter is not a season,
but a hollow place where a soul should be.
A place where greed has cast long, dark fingers
over the sky, robbing the people
of warmth and light.
These men, whose phony smiles
do little to mask the cold glint in their eyes,
suck the resources out of the ground.
They continue to cut the tops off mountains
in their quest for increasingly meager returns of coal,
the profits from which line the pockets of Congressmen.
And the voters, the people who need to pay for heat
to warm their homes, stand in the cold rain,
wondering what they did wrong.