It seems mighty cold when the north wind blows,
in this land if it’s twenty below.
The late afternoon is becoming dark,
with seldom heard songs of the meadowlark.
The snow can fall two inches an hour,
burying so deep the springtime flowers
but the spring will come and the snow will go,
Temperatures no longer be dipping low.
The long sunny days will hold back the dark,
The song will return of the meadowlark.
Tonight’s mighty cold ‘cause the north wind blows
in this land and it’s twenty below.
Touched up for the "Poetic Traditions Poetry Contest"