On the snow-capped hill of a winter Rendezvous,
Bearing up to the shivers of winter chill,
In a frozen breath of a secret conversation,
Sprayed by the wind, those words were spilled.
A springtime eavesdropper was listening to the stream,
As it burbled its secrets to jiggling earrings,
A little bit of gossip, good conversation starter,
Pay me your attention, I've got something worth-hearing.
It seems old Mother Earth had a word with Jack Frost,
To discuss abnormalities with seasonal charm,
Of how Man's interference nurtured the havoc,
That turned summers cold and winters warm.
"Oh my," said the Mother. "What am I to do?
My recipe is in turmoil and my food goes to waste."
"Hush now," said Jack, "This is Man's own fault,
"'Tis it not up to him to realize his mistake?"
"But oh, what if he's too proud to admit,"
"To his own neglect?" Asked old Mother Earth,
Said Jack, "Then on his own head be it,
And soon he'll find the truth of his own puny worth!"
"But we are their guardians," said the Mother to Jack,
"Is not our employ to see season's turn?"
Said Jack to the Mother, "'Tis that and truthful,
But how can we possibly teach those who can't learn?"
And the Mother wept for the rape of her child,
While Jack stood stoic, defiant by mood,
And Man, so cleverly, ignored all the warnings,
Still feeding his greed, still filling his gourd!