When we find ourselves near dawning of December,
The familiar bite of winter that we surely all remember.
The cold it comes crawling, with its serpentine delight,
For the silver snakes of hunger come begging in the night.
The cold, it seems to trap us, indoors and out of sight,
The snowy howls of winter, ever-growing in their might.
We find ourselves stuck frozen, like the frost on windowsill,
For the silver snakes, our capture are ever calling still.
The frozen flakes of heaven, drifting slowly from the sky,
We may hope for end of snowfall, however helpless is our cry.
The ice encroaches all around, from lake to riverside,
From the silver snake’s militia, there is no way to hide.
Sometimes we wait and listen, as the tundra gently calls,
The sky above, the snow below, the gentle snowflake falls.
But there's no escaping from them as they slither toward our home,
For the silver snakes of sorrow, will chill you to the bone.
There is nothing to be done about the fierce encroaching storm,
For the silver snakes of winter will be there in every form.