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From the comments of Ed »


Permalink 06/16/12 at 10:42:51 pm, by Ed, 179 words   English (US)
Categories: General

An ode to one midsummer's morning in late February.

Oh midsummer's morn, what the hell are you doing in February? So far away from home, your presence makes me wary. Your beginning doth start like a gazelle on the plain, whatever the hell that means, it ends just the same. O, the night before was dreary, the noon's promise forlorn. What right have you, in February, to appear in such a form? I say to you, "but NO! I can't enjoy your weather!" You see, the thing I know, is your barometric pressure. As quite as low as yours is, a blizzard must be brewing. Your balmy temp seduces, but there's nobody you're fooling. O would your leaving could we stay, but the earth does not abide a vacuum in its way; it brushes you aside. The month must have its say, lest the Summer shift its date, go now but if you may, return in next June late. For on that day I'll wed--my true love will I marry, so I'll ne'er forget your stay, in dwarfish February.

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