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WHITE COLD
 
When cold of night
And hooting owls
And foxes slither forth,
Its November
And the ground is full of frost.
Mother nature's cold,
A night when icicles
Appear on branches bold.
Patterns on frosted coloured earth,
White frozen turf.
A shivering wind 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 in from the cold night air.
Frosty and shivering the night is cruel,
It gathers everything up and makes the rule.
Clear and crisp cold and white,
Mr Frost has made the cool rule tonight.

By listener

© 2019 listener (All rights reserved)

 

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