The Trouble with Snow
Have you seen the snow?
It’s puffy you know.
It’s fluffy and stuffy and scruffy and cold.
It’s white when it’s young,
It’s sludge when it’s old.
And it flies in from high in the sky, I’ve been told.
When you’re childish and chill,
It can be quite a frill.
You can play every day as you may if you will.
And, when school gets called off,
How so happy you feel.
You can dance, take a chance and just prance. What a thrill!
You can shuffle outside with your bucket-ma-whuppets
and shovel-ma-wovels, and all.
You can build snow-la-bobbles that wiggle and wobble--
What a show when they finally fall!
You can watch grumpity grumps in their lumpy hat lumps
Driving around in their bumpy truck bumps
Skidding their wheels over bright white snow humps
From your dining room window while eating your lunch.
You can watch all the dads in their blow-a-ma-lawns
Blowing the snow til it looks like it’s gone
Or you can watch all the moms with their brushety sticks
Brushing the snow off the things that she picks.
You can sit inside warm in your cozety bed
And wonder why grownups find snow such a dread.
Because, after all, you never may know
Why grownups find trouble with wonderful snow.