An Ingrate Graciously Revolutionized

I see a lousy ingrate and a rat
As I look in the mirror on my wall.
I frown and call the thankless image that,
As I regard the beautiful snowfall.

I've heard early Easter, early spring.
Well, this one is late and still delays.
Was it naive to hope for softening,
Of northern winds and look for sunny days?

The robins hop bravely in the snowfield;
The angleworms are shivering in the ground.
The horses paw, and under snow, revealed,
Are bits of hay where grass ought to abound.

But, wait, those trees festooned with snow-lace,
Are rare, and decorate twigs with delight.
In hours, we'll regret the thaw of each trace,
That made a wonderland before our sight.

By Sunday, lilies, bright, pastel attire,
Along with joyous hymns of people's praise,
Children's laughter, fun, and Easter eggs inspire,
A look of hopefulness for coming days.

What a shift a change in attitude can bring,
To savor the light flurries from the skies,
And realize, while waiting, promised spring.
And a rat may be a churchmouse in disguise.