This month the cold wind marches through my bones
A brittle feeling encroaches at length
The coldest winter for some years, someone
On TV said on February the tenth
The daffodils remain in their green tents
The crocuses and snowdrops top the bill
Still; infernally non-vernal events
Cry hocus pocus to scientists’ shrill
Sermons of global warning. Ate my fill
Of mushy cauliflower at Mum’s home
But the chicken was yummy. Just a glimpse
Of brother and his kids. They took a ball
To the wind-blasted beach, while from my phone
I read Mum some jokes that could give offence
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