Impatient Harbinger

It’s March 1 and a tiny
crimson pennant flies atop
the evergreen flagpole out back
signaling All-Clear
for Spring to return from
Winter quarters.
I hear a song I recognize
from it’s loud chorus:
“something, something,
bweep, bweep, bweep.”
Around these parts,
that’s the equivalent of sounding
reveille at 3:30 AM.
You’re painfully premature,
but I admire your enthusiasm,
little cardinal.
I’ve been humming that tune
since mid-January.
Sing on.

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