Winter

Don't want to rise from the warmth of my bed.
Floor is cold, air is cold, heaters too slow.
Doors shut, windows shut, long for fresh air.
Short days, dull days, barely a sight of the sun.
Wind that bites, wind that chills, blowing straight through,
Bringing ice from unseen Antarctic shores.
Sniffles come, shivers come, flu never too far away.
Grass sodden, garden soggy, plants mossy and rotting.
Frost burns and seedlings won't grow.
Boots caked with mud, hands chapped and red.
What's there to like about winter?