People who don't live where there is actual winter
Don't realize how difficult it can be to endure
They may know the cold, passingly
They may know the snow, soft and demure
But the cold kills and things do not grow
What is there to recommend it?
Life hewn from the ice
From the labor of one's hand
Gives one a respect for the season
A respect of a season of cold
That few can comprehend
Without such first hand experience
Few can imagine the depths
But they can perhaps imagine it
