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By the beginning of next March, approaching the season, in the northern hemisphere at least, ‘When the hands of spring are on winter’s trousers’ as the poet remarked (didn’t he?) and the man with the toupee will have been making whoopee in the White House for over a month, relief in the form of wit and mirth from the Luperati may well be imperative.

Your thoughts, then, please, in your own or anyone else’s voice, sober or skittish, with titles or without, on the pleasures and pains of Spring, in up to 16 lines, headed Competition 36, by 17 February '17.