It’s far too cold; it’s minus two.
I know, that’s not cold, really.
I’d rather it was ten below!
I wouldn’t feel so chilly.
The wind is brisk and full of damp,
It’s not like spring at all.
I wasn’t this uncomfortable
When running in the fall.
I’m ready for plus twenty-five,
For heat and sun and light;
This never-ending sodden grey
winter’s spring’s sad blight.