by John J. King

 

 The winter of eighty-five

was very mild, 

And very little snow

had to be piled .

Winds didn't blow cold

down from the north,

Bringing icy winds or

 freezing winter's wrath.

Old snow plows and new shovels

 got a rest.

Our new heating system

got a fair test.

 

The river froze a little

 in December;

It Melted in January,

the earliest that I can remember.

In February, my body

 began to freeze;

I coughed, shivered

and started to sneeze.

 

Then I thought of summer

not too far away,

And fishing and sailing

in Salem Bay.

And that warmed me up

and made me smile;

I knew summer would be

hear in a short while.

1. So this winter, does not seem 

 so very bad now;

But I will be happy when

she takes her last bow.