As rain begins to turn to ice,
When sun sets,
Subfreezing temps are never nice.
The little birds arise in flight,
They roost in trees in winter’s night.
The snow lay cold
on frozen leaves of brown–
a tale Old Winter Man foretold
across the woods and up the hills and down.
Along the pike
the frosted snowflakes fell
like feathers–no two shapes alike.
Old Winter Man conveyed the saga well.
The story’s old but new
from winter’s point of view.