Snow and ice - what will you do?
In biting frost even birds are mute
and all you have are boots - and you.
I’ll stay inside a little tower
block up all holes, with no way in
conserve my heat, protect my power.
What if the tower shakes and falls
in a grip of ice, a crazy squeeze;
what would you do with yourself at all?
I ‘d choose to walk about in the dark,
and play around, lean on my stick;
I’d throw a ball, I’d have a lark.
And what if trees and sky cave in,
freezing bark and breaking sticks.
How to survive your lovely skin?
I’d amble on where I belong
in step - and steps would have no end:
I will go on where I belong;
I’ll hold a hand, I’ll find a friend.