The Death of Old-Man Winter

Tis a laborious end,
wrought with peril my friend....
the death of old man winter.
The reason of spring
just isn't a thing
he is willing to consider.

Like a stubborn mule put to the task.
For his willing cessation don't even ask.
But the world of ice he clings to has begun to splinter.
With loathsome fury
he drives back those that scurry
forth to herald the victor.

The inevitable end is known to all.
Yet the reaper is left with no answer to his call.
His death is the only way the spring maiden may enter.
With one last flurry
the maiden unleashes her fury
and he is finally unable to fend her.

The maiden's victory is heralded.
New flowers and bushes spring forth from their dead.
For new comes from death's blunder.
The old nourishes the young.
Old man winter reluctantly thrusts forth daisies
from his resting place six feet under.