As I look through my rear window oer garden and park,
at the once leafy trees standing solemn and stark.
Early morning the leafless twigs attempting to dance,
as persistent breezes give one more fruitless chance.
The sky’s a rare winter’s blue with no clouds around,
a dusting of snow meagrely covering the ground.
Steam slowly rising from the snow covered fence,
the sun’s timely rays giving some recompense.
As the day goes on the snow finds it hard to remain,
it’s losing its struggle to the thermometer’s gain.
Eventually as the snow makes its slow getaway ,
to the old people’s delight and the young’s loud dismay
And all the drivers are delighted to say
for once Jack Frost has not had his way.