winter drifts

Biting Winds,
harried drifts,
necessary for a blisterin' day.
Bundled up,
feeling warm,
I face the hasty morn all alone.
Nine-teen out,
freezing cold,
the wicked cold threatens to kiss me.
Beautiful
snow lay on ground,
"Crunch," the snow screams from under my foot,
O, the joy
perfect bliss,
small ways of getting back at winter.