Creaky withered wood abruptly freed from it's jamb
Flung inward into the cottage by violent gust
Releases a torrent of feathery flakes
That bite the skin and chill the air
Riding in on a robust and wintry gale
Hiemal gladiators stampede inward
Toward the scorching hearth
That is ablaze with a passionate fire
Crackling madly at the brumal intruders
White blistering embers fly wildly
And the tiny snow soldiers marching in bravely
Never stood a chance