By Lawrence Hall
Summary: A poem about the “January thaw.”
No spring is false when warm, sweet sunlight falls
Upon the weathered field and woods and walls
And frogs shake off the mud with much to sing
While lizards leap and little bees take wing.
No spring is false when gentle roses bloom
And windows open wide on airless rooms;
After the time of ice, soft gentle air
Comforts the cold world like a whispered prayer.
This January thaw cannot be wrong;
It sings for us a little of spring’s song.