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