Spring Fever

I struggle to my mailbox,

Through drifts of high piled snow,

And find inside, the catalog,

That sets my heart aglow.

There’s vegetables for all to eat,

Trees, shrubs, and flowers too,

Old favorites from the past few years,

And lots of things brand new.

I want to see and smell the earth,

Turned by the moving plow,

To feel the dirt, within my hands,

The sweat upon my brow.

Excitement starts to build inside,

And I can hardly wait,

For Spring to come, with warming sun,
And Winter, to abate.

© 2002 Loree (Mason) O’Neil

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