‘Twixt hot and cold the snowflakes flit;
Indifference seeking to acquit;
Paradise lost? They could not say;
They’d ne’er heard of it anyway.

No cornerstone ‘pon which to moor;
A’blown they’d been to irksome shore;
Perplexing, foul, sinister – true?
How they’d know they never knew.

In times of old, when snow was fresh;
And flakes together did enmesh;
To cling to what they knew not wrong;
Exactitude, ice cold and strong.

What are the flakes, but water soft?
Light and careless, blown aloft;
Yet even rock, frozen water rends;
Trees destroyed, the earth it bends.

A snowball shaped by little boy;
Infantile, a children’s toy;
For play on sunny winters fair;
Where to exist without a care.

But baptized in cold water right;
Transformed to ice, it withstands night;
And if to bricks that ice is formed;
Fortress endures though world is warmed.