An early morning walk to work
on sparkling silver frost -
so cold, with random flakes of snow
that landed, then were lost.
I saw the gold and red of dawn
in bands across the sky,
but then I had to close the door
(as always, with a sigh).
I wondered if the snow would last;
if icicles would form,
and men would dig snowdrifts with spades...
Inside the shop was warm!
But when I left, the paths were clear;
I felt the cold again.
No winter wonderland for me:
the snow had turned to rain!
written 3rd December, for Shadow's Winter poem contest
Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2016