In Springtime...

the spring is full of bees and birds
(the latter come in many hues
 as though The Maker couldn't choose)
and now my car awash in turds
that make my lover softly curse
is added to the list of woes
and this is how the season goes
if men were soft as butterflies
we'd hardly note their tiny lies...
but then I count on all my toes

      	-acm  (4/99)