Just Twelve Short Weeks

Just twelve short weeks lie straight ahead, Before the cold of winter's dread, When nature once again will sleep and wait, For twelve short weeks is all we get, Until we put on scarf and mitt, And feel the cold of winter's ugly gate. When gophers hide far down below, And earth is blanketed with snow, And birds of ev'ry feather head down south, And squirrels and chipmunks hide in trees, While things around them start to freeze, And air, like steam, is swirling from the mouth. Just twelve short weeks, is that enough, To hit the beach and strut my stuff, And party in the warm and evening breeze? And is there time to soak up heat, Until the cold hits hands and feet, And ears and toes and fingers start to freeze? For nine long months the winter's here, As crystals float in air so clear, And people hunker down until it's passed, Or try to see the brighter side, And play in snow and take a ride, Or skate on swimming holes, which now are glassed. Those months creep by 'til Summer's here, Just twelve short weeks; it's time to cheer, And hit the beach and soak up rays of sun, Before the Winter comes again, With icicles and freezing rain, And once again we wait for Summer fun.