In Wisconsin,
Spring seems timid and quiet,
and Winter can't make up its mind.
It must be homesick for the dairy farms and the football season in early March and April,
because it keeps coming back,
knocking on her door like an unwanted ex.
Spring opens the door,
exasperated-- "why are you here again?"
Winter, bashful-- "can I come in?"
Spring sighs deeply,
running her hand through her tousled blonde hair,
and then silently steps aside.
Winter, with his dark hair and grey eyes,
walked ashamedly in,
but soon forgets as he plops down without hesitation in front of the TV,
looking for football to watch.
Spring goes back into the kitchen,
hidden from view in the shadows.
Winter calls for a sandwich,
and the temperature drops.
