A Poem About How The Beginning Of March Is Never Quite As Nice, Weather-wise, As We Expect It To Be

Though March is but a few days old
I’m disappointed, (truth be told)
That most days are still quite cold
Unlike the dream that I was sold

I was taught that March was Spring
Newly returned birds would sing
And clement weather they would bring
While everyone produced offspring

Instead as I awake each day
The sky is far less blue than grey
There is no sunshine to make hay
And in my bed I’d rather stay

But I will try to keep my cheer
Sunny days may not yet be here
It is the same way every year
Until they arrive I’ve still got beer