The air turned cold last night
As the moon lay silver on the trees
And shadows cast an eerie charm
With silhouettes that danced and teased.
Night creatures scurried past
Roaming with practiced ease
And the wise old owl hooted ‘who, who’?
From his perch amongst the trees.
And a hoary frost laid cold about
An omen of things to be
When ice and snow and wind-drawn pain
Elicit dreams of summer’s glee.