Ahhh, the fresh canvas of new fallen snow
and the promise of beer-bloated bladder
no pencil, but my pen is, well, you know..
(to a true poet, size doesn't matter)
I claim nothing such, but this mighty oak
begs for a sonnet or three
so upon it I plant acorny joke
and spout forth my pee-a-tree
and I saved some ink, too, for the crisp clean ground
and my rhymes were sharp and biting
but my publisher says a deceit they have found
for it was my wife's handwriting!
Chuck Audette
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-snow-poet-that-s-no-poet/
