Sparkling ice is cold and slick, I know,
A driving hazard lurking in the gloom,
And, lovely in the dawn, the pristine snow
Turns to dirty slush by afternoon.
I know the winter winds rush swiftly by,
To chill the hands and chap the scarfless face,
And that the sheep-backed clouds that graze the sky
Will block all travel for the holidays.
But I am tired of the constant glare,
The usual boring sky, banal and blue,
Iced tea, short sleeves, and artificial air,
Last summer and her laggard retinue
Just a little winter, God, I pray--
Just a little frost for Christmas day.
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