Well, we've featured some poetry here before, none of which usually
rhymes. A Strange-Tripper (who for obvious reasons prefers to remain
anonymous) sent along this nice winter poem:
It's winter in Montana
And the gentle breezes blow
Seventy miles an hour
At thirty-five below.
Oh, how I love Montana
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 hang around
I could never leave Montana
I'm frozen to the ground!