I Could Syruptitiously Fly South, But Instead I Choose to Sticky Around

It’s just about time for my annual weather report,
When I gripe about snowstorms and cold winds and things of that sort –
Things that haven’t a place in a “springtime” poetical musing
And to robins (and players of baseball) are only confusing.

But to castigate March weather vagaries flies in the face
Of one of the reasons we’re glad to be stuck in this place:
The ups and the downs of the days and the nights make their mark
On the sweet flow of fluid just under a certain tree’s bark.

                                                         —A. Sappy Mouse