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by Kathleen Chambers

The snow has come I must confide
And like it or not itís here to bide
A blank canvas for you to fill
With any whimsy that you will
A tiny fortress two feet high
To hide from snowballs flying by
A bright red toque upon a head
Goes rushing past me on a sled
A happy snowman in his frock
To wave at people as they walk
Lovely to see the old and young
Catching snowflakes on their tongue
Itís very pretty as it falls down
To cover up the lawns and ground
It loses itís beauty once you know
That YOU have to shovel all of that snow

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