Maple Feast
Frances Frost
Into the bit-flaked sugar-snow
The crystal-gathering sledges go.
Stumbling through silver to my knees,
I shout among the maple trees,
Tilt gleaming buckets icy cold
Till I am full as I can hold
Of clear bright sap, until I feel
Like a maple tree from head to heel!
Then to the sugarhouse I run
Where syrup, golden as the sun,
Is boiling in the crisp March air
And I, as daft as a baby bear,
Eat, till my buttons burst asunder
From maple sweetness, maple wonder! Happy Birthday to Dr. Seuss, John Irving, and me! Having a snow day yesterday was almost as good as having the day off today. My dear son Abe cooked breakfast for me, and gave me an absolutely hilarious card.
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