The air bites hard enough to make you wheeze,
A warning from the winter’s iron fist—
You know you’ve reached the realm of snot-freeze.
Your nostrils stiffen in the Arctic breeze,
Each breath a gamble you cannot resist;
The air bites hard enough to make you wheeze.
Your scarf does little more than vaguely tease,
Frost forming on its loosely knitted twist—
You know you’ve reached the realm of snot-freeze.
Boots crunch on snow with brittle, hollow ease;
The world turns ghost-pale in its icy mist.
The air bites hard enough to make you wheeze.
But trudging forward through the deep degrees,
You grin at how the cold can still persist—
You know you’ve reached the realm of snot-freeze.
Though winter taunts with chill designed to seize,
You walk on, strangely proud you coexist.
The air bites hard enough to make you wheeze—
You know you’ve reached the realm of snot-freeze.