Some thoughts of winter I've recalled,
and what it meant to us.
It meant for one thing bundling up
to meet school’s morning bus.

It also was a time to spend
in scratching out our names,
as well as hearts and other things,
on frozen window panes.

Of coming in from out of doors
all frozen through and through,
and sitting close to fire place
our whole day in review.

And listening to those hissing sounds
steam radiators make,
heard while lying in your bed
'til sleep could overtake.

And getting up each morning to
that undesired chore,
of tip-toeing quick as possible
across the ice cold floor.

It meant the smells throughout the house
that cooking food would bring,
that seemed to linger in the air
'til it was nearly spring.

It was a time for falling snow
it’s angels and it’s men,
of sledding quickly down a hill
and trudging up again.

All this seemed to set the stage
for that high point of the year,
each little thing reminding us
soon Christmas would be here.