The mercury plummeting.
Beanies, scarves and hats,
Oh so warm, yet unbecoming!
The grass tends to crunch,
On those cold frosty mornings.
You won't be warm until lunch,
The thermometer is warning.
The doors all slam shut,
As we fight the cold chill
The fires warming our butts.
Of hot drinks, we have our fill.
In the mornings we wake,
Our breath misty white.
The thawing windows opaque,
As the cold loses the fight.
At night the dogs stay warm,
Taking up residency on door mats.
It's not uncommon form,
To find them in the boots, under the hat racks.
Snap! Crunch! Oh dear...
Winter is here.
Misty valleys
Steaming pastures
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