The Inkwell

I thought it was too cold for anybody

to be hanging around outside

even the eskimos had taken shelter

in their warm igloos

But it seems while we were all asleep

a little fellow has with a very quick creep

darted and skidded over each bit of glass

and done the same to each blade of grass

Artistry clinging on tight in the cold

leaving patterns so pretty and sometimes bold

delightful to look at in their own unique way

till its seen as an obstacle, and scraped away

And as you walk over ground, just listen as you pass

over the frozen leaves and the grass

as your boots meet the frozen ground with a crunch

and you’re thinking about what’s warming in the cupboard for lunch