On this bitterly cold February night
Jack Frost envelopes our house
Making his ghostly presence felt
Leaving his trademark sign on outer windows
While we are cosied up indoors
Close to home animals are seeking shelter
Farther afield homeless people are curled up
in sleeping bags, awaiting the next soup run
The Gods can become quite uneasy
They don’t always get it right
So the innocent inevitably suffer.
(c) Chris Black 2017.