When Jack Frost comes to visit,
Though his visits here are rare,
He dashes through just briefly,
To let us know he cares;
He paints a thin white coat of ice
All across the lawn,
with a brush he splashes bushes,
and just like that he’s gone.
The sun comes up and glitters
On the land it shines upon,
As it melts away the traces that
Jack Frost has painted on.
Sandra Lee Smith