Mother Nature has draped her winters cloth
Over the counters of her dry-goods store,
Where yards and yards of merchandise
Are on display for all to explore.
The rolling hills of shimmering white,
Lay in folds of luxurious worth,
And the roughen texture of brown and white
Are tweeds of fresh turned earth.
The pines of green on a white background,
Paint a print of authentic design,
While the azure blue of the satin sky
Stands at the top of the winter's line.
All this I imaged from my window pane,
As I sipped at my invigorating tea,
Reminiscing the countless poets
Who have been smitten by weird fantasy!