Who comes creeping
In the night?
When the moon
Is clear and bright?
Who paints the tree leaves
Red and gold
When the autumn days
Turn cold?
Up the hill and down he goes
In and out the gold grain rows
Making music crackling sweet,
With his little frosty feet,
Jack Frost!
You had me worried, I thought it was the coyote.
ReplyDeleteHow did I miss that?
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