Could it be spring?

^{by A. Gagliardi}

Sidewalk ice-flows change their course as the days drip by.
Snow banks ease into dirt-tainted mountain ranges.
Concave snow peaks parade craggy terrains on their hems.

Could it be spring?

Ice ledges suspend themselves
            over cement gutters
                    lurking in street shadows.

Winter struggles through March before grudgingly relenting.
Spring slithers silently into April.

Skinny sunshine milks the days’ minutes away.
Squirrels hungrily dig for newly sprouted bulbs.
Curious buds stretch their yearning toward a weary sky.

Could it be spring?

Cars travel incognito,
            wearing street clothes
                of road residue and salt lick.

Winter struggles through March before relenting.
Spring slithers silently into April.