[Soaring Feather]

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garmet of Repentance fling
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly -- and Lo! The Bird is on the Wing.


The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.


- Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

[Soaring Feather]

When March goes on forever,
And April's twice as long,
Who gives a damn if spring has come,
As long as winter's gone.


- R. L. Ruzicka