It’s winter

My Pitiful Winter Poem.

It’s winter in Indiana

And the gentle breezes blow

Seventy miles an hour

At twenty five below.

Oh, how I love Indiana

When the snow’s up to my butt

You take a breath of winter

And your nose is frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful

So I guess I’ll hand around

I could never leave Indiana

‘Cause I’m frozen to the ground.