It is four-thirty on a glistening Wednesday morn,
As out I go with snow shovel ahead of me,
To clear away the light sparkling snow,
To make a path to the bird feeder.
The light fluffy snow does glisten,
And twinkle like gems it does,
But the temperature says it is eleven degrees,
The coolest morn so far this fall.
The bird feeder is covered oer,
So I shovel it out.
The snow shovel works just fine,
As the snow does fly about.
I hear the sound of the snowplow as it goes down the road,
The blade a-scraping along the asphalt road,
With its headlights glaring and yellow lights flashing,
As it clears snow from the road.
Some extra feed and extra peanuts I do put out,
For the temperature is only eleven degrees.
And my hat and coat I have donned,
For the first time this fall.
But alas, and durn I do exclaim,
As the two papers are not here!
So back inside I do come and the coffee make.
A big smile I do have for a beautiful sunrise I will see.
|
|