Jack Frost decorates the woodlands each year,
For traditional festive history,
In shades of silver and twinkling white,
His reasons steeped in mystery,
Shiny spider webs like garlands of lace,
Adorn the churchyard fence,
A place fit to welcome our baby King,
Or for souls seeking recompense,
I tracked his footprints in the white crunchy field,
Until strangely further on there were none,
He must have vanished with the onset of dawn,
And the unbearable warmth of the sun,
He showed his anger in the hungry birds,
In the leaves that darkened the skies,
Yet they defied him dancing in the wind,
While falling to a watery demise,
His breath I felt ...that icy breeze,
In this snowy Winter dream,
As I stumbled and slipped on the frozen pond,
I heard his giggles in the gurgling stream,
Tip toeing home now to light the fire,
I'm sure Jack gloats with glee,
I did'nt find him in person today,
But I'm frozen...he surely found me.