When cold of night,
And whispering owls,
The foxes slither forth,
It's late December
And the ground is full of frost.
Mother nature's cold,
A night when icicles
Appear on branches bold.
Patterns on frosted coulored earth,
Across white emblazened turf.
A shivering winf creeps through the night,
As in hedgerows Mr Frost doth bite.
A night of inexplicable cold,
A night when nature engulfs her fold.
The clear moonlight sweeps across the plain,
As Mr sly foxes eyes glare in distain.
Little fox cubs look out from the lair,
Then sneak back again from the cold air.
Frosty and shivering the night is cruel,
It gathers everything up and makes the rule,
Clear and crisp cold and white,
Mr Frost dictates the cool rule tonight.
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