I knew he was coming,
I knew he would arrive.
With brash disrespect
making the temperature dive.
I’m never quite ready
for such a rude about face,
This brazen intrusion,
an outright disgrace.
He just blows on in,
without even knocking
Laughing at warmth,
my comfort he’s mocking.
His cold, icy fingers
encircle my neck,
Then with no hesitation
goes on down my back.
Oh, Winter, frigid Winter,
so bleak and so raw,
From your icy clutches
I’d like to withdraw.
It’s as though someone left
the polar door open.
Ol’ Man Winter got out,
then South he went sneekin’.
Snow, ice and misery,
all left in his wake,
Though what would one expect
from such a frosty old rake.
Oh, Summer, oh, Summer,
where art thou, Summer,
You can have Ol’ Man Winter,
that ill-mannered bummer!
Bruce Bigelow
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ol-man-winter/
