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On Huddle Hill 8-30 am

'Snow, snow, snow!'

'Well, it's almost Spring...'

'But Winter's back,

Those houses resemble polar shacks,

Their cars - so many igloos!'

We de-ice car's windows and clear our drive,

Feeling more frozen than alive.

Our hill needs gritting

But nothing's been done yet.

A robin huddles on the sill

Near dejected daffodils.

An intrepid neighbour walks her poodle -

Which studiously stains snow by our gate.

Some local kids, on their way to school,

Cavort ecstatically down the hill -

Sliding and snowballing, helter-skelter,

At this rate they'll be more than late.

Shivering and shaking, I totter indoors,

Looking for whisky to clear my head.

Am I getting 'flu?

(I'd gladly scurry back to bed.)

Amazing what a few inches of SNOW can do...

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