(I will have you know that this is a proper Ode written in the ababcdecde form)
Ode to the Unceasing Winter
To the wind that chills the water down converting it to snow,
To the snow that gently falls atop the trees and frozen grass,
To the long four months that causes ache and make my leg hair grow,
To the frozen ground that makes me slip and lands me on my ass.
I have a bone to pick with you about your hellish ways,
I do not care for the Arctic prison that you have locked me in.
You vomit snow onto our stoop and thus we cannot leave.
I long for warmth and lemonade and 18 hour days.
Although the Winter does provide other forms of sins
I laugh at folks who out of snow their shoes the must retrieve.