March Snow

Snowing again, the flakes are flying, the roads are white. It's the first day of spring and it looks like a fight. A fight for the spring and the for the flowers to bloom. It looks like we must hold tight for the farming and yard grooming tools. Where is the elusive robin and what is his plight? Do the animals know better, with the instictual truth of the seasons? Or is it only humans that hang onto the hope of spring coming early and escaping the wrath of winter. Or is it hope or delusion?