Mr. Frost
“Mr. Frost” he said
“Is your name Robert or Jack?”
And with beautiful words
I was cold in my attack:
Surely you know
I’m the word-smith gifted
Words come in a blizzard
As flour when it’s sifted
I tend to rhythm and rhyme
And write of times in winter
I give of myself
In the nights of December
If I were an owl
I would be a snowy
With a great turn of my head
And words good and flowing
Exactly who I am
Is open to debate
I write when I can
On cold December days