The day is a gray one and bitter cold Wind slapping my face piercingly bold The snow is icy white, the top layer is hard My forced footsteps leave the service scarred
Not a sound is heard, noises freeze in mid air Later the moon exposes that activity was their Some rabbits, deer and even some wolf tracks Leaving me to wonder, are they running in packs
Tired and hungry, I head back to my lodge Safe, yet feeling there is something I just dodged looking out my window I see shadows prowling There they are on the hill, I hear the wolves howling
The words to describe this long trying dreary day Could be cloudy gloomy dismal and very very gray It's damp here in the house, cold and raining out
A day one could stay in bed, of this I have no doubtSlipping under my covers hoping it will be better in the morning I knew the rain had turned to sleet hitting hard was enough warning Weather like this I've seen before, I'm sure I'll wake up to a freeze
The barometer on my porch shows it's dropping below zero degrees
In the morning my room was bright even through closed drapes A dazzling scene of iced bushes and trees in shimmering shapes Branches were bending and crackling in a slight brisk breeze
Icicle chimes were playing some enchanting winter symphonies
Jack Frost is never heard or seen, But you can tell just where he's been For while your fast asleep at night
He paints the world a sparkling white
His freezing fingers in a trice Turn every puddle into ice Window panes those fingers trace
Fine twinkling patterns just like lace
On silken webs some spiders spun Jack Frost hangs crystals just for fun You can't see jack Frost this is true But he can still reach out to you
So wrap up warm, please take my tip Or you'll feel Jack Frost's icy grip
Author Jillian Harker
Can't you see the big snow flakes coming down The wind is blowing the snow on frozen ground Sitting at the door are you wanting to go out How loud the word no do you want me to shout
It's piling up real fast making big snow banks Staying in this warm house you should give thanks One paw out that door and you would quickly disappear Wait until the Mr. plows a path to make the way clear
Please stop fussing while I wrap you in this warm sweater And you may not like it but this hat makes it even better Your the one snow cat that wants to go out in this blizzard It sure would make me happy if you would just reconsider
Author Eileen Clark 2022
The squirrel will dig a hole deep into the ground Making sure no onlooking predators are around They will dig very deep to hide their nuts and berries Then zig zagging up a tree fast as their legs can carry
The constant moving of their bushy tails often attracts So that running pattern confuses all the dogs and cats Keep those feeders filled when the temperature gets low Squirrels won't have to dig for their stash in the snow
A great deal of time is spent digging, chasing and eating Fall is busy preparing for winter they'll soon be greeting Take some time to notice the antics of the silly squirrel A whole new interesting activity in your life will unfurl
Author Eileen Clark 2022
It's cold outside, the wind is blowing Freeze in the air, soon it will be snowing Nothing can be better on this whole earth Just watching my cats sleeping by the hearth
Many a cat would be filled with delight To be in a warm cozy home for the night But for them it's just a dream far out of sight Only abandonment is to be their plight
All I can offer is this plea to all of you Can you adopt a cat, or maybe even two If you have a cat, can you neuter or spayed By doing this less cats have to be saved
I feel a shiver as I hear the wind howl Oh so many cats tonight out on the prowl I am filled with thankfulness gaiety and mirth As I gaze at my at my sleeping cats by the hearth
Author Eileen Clark 2013
When the trees their summer splendor Change to raiment red and gold, When the summer moon turns mellow, And the nights are getting cold; When the squirrels hide their acorns, And the woodchucks disappear; Then we know that it is autumn, Loveliest season of the year.
Charlotte L. Riser
October Eastern Gray Squirrel in Redbud Tree is a painting by Susan A Walton which was uploaded on September 29th, 2011. This is a painting of a pause in the action of a working squirrel’s life. It is clinging to a redbud tree, a small tree common in the Midwest and… more
The September days can get very hot
Turn on the air conditioner, then it's not
By late afternoon you are cold again
Turn off the air and let evening set it
The very next day you wake up to a chill
Is that really frost on your windowsill
Get out the sweaters and turn up the heat
The days to come this activity we'll repeat
We are just now entering the first of November
Much talk of a heat wave, so try to remember
Weather change happens so don't lose your cool
Predicting the weather makes a smart man a fool
Author Eileen Clark
Da spreeng ees com’ but oh, da joy Eet ees too late ! He was so cold, my leetla boy, He no could wait.
I no can count how manny week, How manny day, dat he ees seeck, how manny night I seet an’ hold da leetla hand dat was so cold.
He was so patience,oh, so sweet. Eet hurts my throat to theenk of eet: An all he evra ask ees w’en Is gona com’ da spreeng agen.
Wan day, wan brighta sunny day, He see across da alleyway, Da leetla girl dat’s liven’ dere Ees raise her window for da air, And put outside a leetla pot of w’at you call?-forget-me-not.
So smalla flower, so leetla theeng! But steel eet mak’ hees hearta seeng. “Oh, now, at las’,ees com’ da spreeng! Da leetla plant ees glad for know,
Da sun ees com’ for mak’ eet grow. So too, I am grow warm and strong. So lika dat he seeng hees song.
But, ah, da night com’ down an den, Da winter ees sneak back agen, An in da alley, all da night Eees fall da snow, so cold, so white.
An’ cover up da leetla pot Of w’at you call ? for-get-me-not. All night da leetla hand I hold.
Eees grow so cold, so cold, so cold ! Da spreeng ees come, but oh, da joy, Eet ees too late! He was so cold, my leetla boy, He no could wait.
by Thomas Augustine Daly
Thomas Augustine Daly was an Irish-American poet who is more commonly referred to as T A Daly. He was a very popular writer, mainly poetry, but he had many articles published in newspapers and magazines. He also made a good living on the lecturing and after-dinner speaking circuit where he would often recite his own poetry to appreciative audiences. His style was mostly humorous and he wrote in a curious mixture of mock Italian-American and Irish-American dialect.
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