I wrote this poem last year, I think.
I do love snow and ice but a change is always pleasant.
When everyone's tired of freezing and snow,
When the middle of winter has come and will go,
When the cold is so bad there's no chance to play,
Then comes the Thaw-fairy, in her quiet way.
You don't see her in person, only her signs.
First is the mist, in fine wispy lines,
Then there is frost all over the trees.
You know what comes next: rain that will freeze.
Then the temperature rises abruptly and so
The sun shines out boldly and softens the snow.
Now her sweet presence is rampantly clear.
The grass is exposed for the rabbits and deer.
The fields become black and soak up the sun,
Lots more is still coming, she's only begun.
Mud! Mud is everywhere! All over the place!
Still she is hiding, she won't show her face.
One warm winter day I walked on the river,
There was hoar frost galore; the wind made me shiver.
I came round a bend not meaning to spy,
There she was (the fairy) I don't tell a lie.
She stood under a tree that was laden with white,
To see her was awesome, but it gave me a fright.
You'd think she'd be green like spring: I did too,
But her shoes were silver and her dress was blue.
She looked like a spirit of the sugar plum kind,
Her hair gold, her hands tiny, seeming to find
Always something to do, more to be done,
She was dancing and having the greatest of fun.
What I saw on the ice was the utmost of treats,
A spinning and twirling of the hands and the feet
Of the kindest of fairies, we owe her our spring,
All January thaws, frost and everything.
In short, all things good, all things pleasant and nice.
That is, if you don't like the snow and the ice,
Wouldn't come without her, the thaw-fairy by name,
And you say you haven't heard of her? For shame!