It's #worldpoetryday , so here is the final verse of 'The Last of March' by John Clare.

'The storm has ceas'd, - again the sun
The ague-shivering season dries;
Short winded March, thou'lt soon be done,
Thy fainting tempest mildly dies.
Soon April's flowers and dappled skies
Shall spread a couch for lovely May,
Upon whose bosom nature lies
And smiles its joyous youth away.'

We know that the poet wrote it at or on this bridge: shorturl.at/pxKQ2

#poetry #poem #worldpoetry #johnclare

On #WorldPoetry day, I say...

Any combination of words in any arrangement of any length is "potety."

There are no rules. Go j#azz on the poetry mafia's ass.

This toot is a poem, in fact.