Rosi Caswell

Trudging through the snow
In the cold and dark of night,
With fairy crystals hanging from boughs
And hedges groaning ‘neath shroud of white.
I feel my way quite gingerly
As ice beneath the snow does slip,
To pound my heart to rhythmic drum
My boots seem somehow not to grip.
Deceitful then the snow and ice
To those unwatchful, careless, so
My feet and head have places changed,
But lying in the snow is nice!