The beauty of the early morning scene
Struck me as I came out of my front door
The snow was deep and white (not at all green)
My boots sank down but never touched the floor
The high branches intermittently poured
Their crystal contents near my head; cautious,
I crept quickly beneath while making for
The safety of the open sky, the trees
Three times cursing their luck at each near miss
The Regent Road traffic was barely seen
The slush hills and valleys a long brown score
From Liverpool to Manchester and Leeds
A relief to be home; I’m not too keen
On going out tonight. Will it snow more?
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