Down the leaves fall from up on the trees,

down falls the snow on it's tippy-tip-toes,

the whirling wind swirls round and round,,

carrying everything with it.

On top of the lake is a blanket of ice,

making every fish shiver,

although the rain is has already been,

the hail is yet to come.

Over the bridge and in through the grass,

that's where the frost likes to go,

it's cold out-side but by the fire,

so stay there all winters long

My Winter poem