19 January 2013
• Acrostic poem
Winds a-howling at the door, Icy ground is in store. Numbed fingers, also toes, That's the way the season goes. Every child loving snow, Rosy cheeks all aglow. Tinsel glistening on the tree, In hibernation, animals sleep carefree. Morning darkness drawn out, Evening, too soon is all about.
Wintertime • Opuss № I