Crunching of ice
Unplowed city streets
Noisy passing.

Say what you want
Believe what you will
We have trouble
On the DC hill.

Of all the jobs, that had no fuss,
Was when I drove a yellow school bus.
It was a Superior body on a Kenworth frame.
A rear engine, seventy six passenger, it came,
With the drivers seat, at the front end.
When I turned a corner, I did extend
Out to the other side of the street
And that, in itself was an exiting feat.
Our job, was to pick up all kids
And take to the schools , which we did.
Afternoons, we would go to each school,
Taking them all home, that was the rule.
Dropping off the kids at homes, far and near,
When I looked up into the big mirror,
I saw this small head, above the seat,
So I went back to the Barn, to repeat
My story to my boss and he did say.
We need to take him home, right away.
It was his first day, going to school,
Missed his stop and I broke the rule.

The tip of a plant
Pushes through the snow,
Telling of growth below.
A warming Sun can't
Hurt, that I know.
As the weather warms,
There are seeds to sow
For new plants to grow.