Miss Frost is here to chill the glass,
The vamp of winter’s coldest blast,
Her fingers amply trained by Jack,
Her mentor, guide, her icy dad.
She’ll shake a leg and flash a thigh,
But do not touch, she’s cold as ice,
A family trait, a frozen charm,
A bitter kiss, so wrap up warm.
Miss Frost is here to work apace,
To freeze the birdbath, pond, and lake,
To deck the trees and fields in white,
And do it all in just one night.
Of colder nights be gardener wise,
Your tender plants may not survive,
So watch the weather, cold north wind,
Miss Frost may soon be blowing in.
© Joseph G Dawson
Vote for this poem