The light of autumn’s pumpkin moon
When thunder footsteps woke the town.
Storming winter had arrived.
Howling like a half-mad god,
It shook the fall-dressed trees
So hard their leafy, Technicolor
Coats, like Joseph’s, disappeared.
Growing fiercer; more uncaring,
It began to bury houses
And the car-filled streets they faced,
In a rising sea of snow.
So long did its record-breaking
Non-stop sequence of storms last.
The ghostly town of housebound people
Seemed to be forever frozen.
But it did warm and fill again
With re-leafed trees on re-greened lawns;
For though this was the King of Cold,
It could not stop spring’s coming.
