I look out the frosted window br At the snow falling on the ground. br I listen for noises below, br But to my delight there isn't a sound. br br I put on my big puffy jacket br And tie my boots tight to my feet. br Trying not to make too much racket, br I slide down the banister and past my dog Pete. br br I quietly sneak out the front door, br And into the dead of the night. br I dance around my front yard, br Mimicking a bird in flight. br br I think of an idea, br Letting my inner-child show. br I make one snowball; then two; three; four, br And throw them up towards the moon's heavenly glow. br br Crashing onto the new fallen flakes, br I make two snow angels side-by-side. br Back and forth my arms shake, br For the wings of the angels: a guide. br br Suddenly I see hints of orange and yellow in the distance, br And realize I'd better go back in the house. br Slipping into the entryway, br I creep up the stairs like a mouse. br br I jump back onto my bed, br And pull over me the down-fillled quilt. br Letting the images slide thorough my head, br I remember the snow-things I built.