Wyoming Weather: A Poem

This year France has seen more snowfall than I've known in the 14+ years I've been here, but it's nothing compared to the severe winters of Wyoming. Sometimes I pine for those sub-zero mornings when crystals as long as fingers grow on every surface and the icy thick air  amplifies the crunch of snow underfoot. My dad sent this poem, which has helped alleviate my nostalgia.

Wyoming Poem

It’s winter in Wyoming,
And the gentle breezes blow,
Seventy miles an hour,
At twenty-five below.
Oh, how I love Wyoming,
When the snow’s up to your butt,
You take a breath of winter,
And your nose gets frozen shut.
Yes, the weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I’ll stick around,
I could never leave Wyoming,
“cause I’m frozen to the ground!