SWIRLING SNOW
When the wind blows icy cold and
         the snow swirls all around,
It looks like some creeping plague
        going on the frozen ground,
Racing along in front of the wind,
        infecting everything it touches
With cold death, see, it’s coming
        closer, see how it rushes,
I am glad that I am in the shelter
        of the cozy, safe, warm car,
I know that in that blowing ice cold
        plague I wouldn’t go very far
Before I was overtaken and that cruel,
        grasping icy cold devour me,
Sending me much to quickly to
        another step into eternity.

M Ann Margetson February 24, 2002