A gambling man

Enter now the panic ponder! These trees of green, orange or no leaves at all, are like me; undecided. Am I Summer? Autumn? Winter? Cos I’m far from being spring, with birds of a feather at it like rabbits, whereas I’ve no beak or bunny to speak of. But my money’s on Epiphany, my three-legged pony at 52-1. Slim chance! Which is, ironically, 3-1. Likewise, I’ll fly out of the trap, grabbing my opportunity by the reigns, or the mane… or tail… only then to be drawn through the rocky streets of education; the forgotten purpose.