White frost underfoot,
Green shoots poking through,
My shoes letting the cold come in,
What’s it like for you?
Circling slowly,
You need that perfect spot,
This cold, now biting my feet,
I should’ve worn thicker socks,
This way, then that,
Surely you must know,
The direction we are going,
Do you have to walk so slow?
The sun shines, yet it’s still bitter cold,
I’m not that hardy,
I wish I’d worn my jacket,
A hoodie or a cardi.
You sniff the air, the ground,
And everything around,
Now and then you grumble
Deep voiced, at what you’ve found.
Finally, that's the spot,
Business complete without a snag,
Now it’s my turn to do the deed,
And put your business in a bag.
‘To Binfinity and beyond’.
Is our clarion yell.
To quickly dispose of the bag.
More quickly escape the smell.
Funny how your pace increases,
Homeward bound, down the street,
Is it that you desire to sofa surf,
Or is speed, related to treat.
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