Trees aren't bare;
they're cuddly:
pull down any branch;
it's buddly.
At the flourish of each dark gesture
are fingers tipped with bombs
to detonate when the spring comes.
Bare trees, schmeez!
Stripped for action!
Just bide a while
for satisfaction.
Ah. Amuse yourselves.
Do something with elves
(like Christmas and New Year)
Then get down and squabble -
fight with axes through the sheer
grey slog of February's hard bubble,
cabin-fever to consume you. Why!
It's spring will really make you cry.
.......