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Snow in March is like trochaics falling, Falling down when what you want are iambs Lifting up your head with songbirds calling. Nature has these trochees up its galling Deathstar sleeves to make us mutter god-damns. Snow in March is like trochaics falling: Scattered snowflakes making us start bawling, Gray skies filling everybody's webcams, Even ones that should show songbirds calling. Where is Shakespeare when we need some scrawling In iambics breaking up the logjams Caused by snow in March like trochees falling? Where's the sun upon the skyline trawling With its net of many-colored whim-whams Lifting up your head with songbirds calling? Onward Christian soldiers and snowballing Children donning snow pants over jam jams. Sing this: "Snow is like trochaics falling," Lifting up your heads like songbirds calling!
A poem for poets. (Thanks for making me look up the meaning of three words.)
Climate provides the accent for life!