Spring isn't pallid snowdrops
shyly coil'd in chilly Feb.
It isn't jewel primulas
or burgeoning rhodo's red.
Not hyacinths poking through dirt
or blossom bursts of plum,
not heather clumps abuzz once more
with bees that float and hum.
Not tulips or camellias
unfurling on the scene,
nor lilacs or forsythia
soon giving way to green.
But in the vernal equinox
'midst sprouting oats and flaxes
it's bureaucrats whose grasping hands
insist I spring for taxes.
--V.Nesdoly 2004
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This poem won a 'Short and Silly' contest in FellowScript some years ago.
And yes, ladies and gents, it is that time of year again. So -- Gather your forms, receipts, T4s, pencils, erasers, calculator -- Get set! -- Go!!
Very witty! I will share this with my Dad. He loves poetry and he's crunching numbers right now for several people and businesses in town, all hoping, of course for that refund!
ReplyDeletePam
My husband always says, "Be glad you make enough money to pay taxes" -- which totally ruins the fun of complaining about it. At any rate (no pun intended) I'm glad spring is also tulips and bright blossoms! And this is such a funny poem!!
ReplyDeleteelsie
Wow that was fun. And way too true. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDelete