Snow Means Spring in Spirit River

This early morn I see ’tis spring; the dulcet tones of robins sing

Out from the trees to which did cling Nature’s special sort of bling.

Oh no, not blossoms, blooms nor buds, but a cooler, paler kind of duds

Which, when they melt will bring the muds, but please just not the basement floods!

If you can do better (and no doubt you can) why not be brave and stick your poem here on Town Spirit?  If it relates to the Peace Country, either by subject or by author, it is welcome here.  Just email your rhymes, rich or rusty, to

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