Foot steps in the snow, follow the path of tiny feet
They wiggle and squiggle all over the place
No chance or start or finish to trace
Laughter hangs in the air as snowballs wiz by
My that soft succulent snow can fly
The sledge is released, the screams of delight rent air
As coats, hats, gloves fly by, certainly long hair
Tracks made down the hill as people come out and spill
Ants upon poor hillside trek all over
Squashed nettles, new buds and barely sprung clover
It lasts not long, maybe enough for three wild trips
Till snow melts in hood and down face drips
Drudge back the sledge, now a burden
As they try to drag through slush and gravel
Can not take the grin off their faces as they home travel
