Snow, How I Loathe You

The frigid air bites at my nose, As I step outside for a smoke; The pristine snow fills my boots, And I snuggle deeper into my cloak; A foot and a half in the last two days, To me it seems surreal; An icy droplet hits my neck, And I let out a startled squeal; I silently curse this dratted snow, That froze my water pipes; When I said it out loud my husband complained, “That all you can do, is gripe”