Jack Frost
Jack Frost laid his hand over the lands
trees now adorned with hoar frost gems
laughing in glee watched people slip
then slide helpless down the slopes.
Bitter cold from his fingers ran
turning the ground rock hard
as icicles grew so very long
the air so brittle it snapped.
Surveyed his domain unsatisfied
and pointed a slender finger
windows now became jammed
locks too now frozen solid.
Yet as the sun rose up high
Jack Frost's work became undone
and back into oblivion he slipped
knowing there was always next year.
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