On the first day of Spring in Canada,
frozen birds’ open beaks mouth icicle
songs, that drip and reform all day
to fall and shatter at night, and then sing.
Dream sap runs through maple stands,
sweet deposits swim deep Spring snow.

North wind frost flowers bloom scent-free
because there is no snow in Spring.

Now, let us don our bright apparel, tie
earflaps tight and sing, accompanied by
white plumes of melody as we exhale.
March forward on those things like tennis
racquets people tie on their feet when
there’s snow and they need to get around,
and when we arrive, we remove them and play
air guitar while singing our Canadian song of Spring.

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