Unlike the ones I used to know,
When treetops still glisten,
And children hasten,
To see bunny tracks in the snow.
I’m dreading an arctic Easter,
With each fresh snowfall, even light,
No lilies or bonnets,
Or parades and sonnets,
Or spring fever, in sight.
Still, may your Easter be joyous and bright,
But, please, may no more Easters
Be this white.
-- Jim Heffernan