Jack Frost

De ijzig berijpte buxusblaadjes doen me denken aan C.E. Pike's 'Jack Frost' gedichtje:

Look out! Look out!

Jack Frost is about!

He s after our fingers and toes;

And all through the night,

The gay little sprite

Is working where nobody knows.

He ll climb each tree,

So nimble is he,

His silvery powder he ll shake.

To windows he ll creep

And while we re asleep

Such wonderful pictures he ll make.

Across the grass

He ll merrily pass,

And change all its greenness to white.

Then home he will go

And laugh ho, ho ho!

What fun I have had in the night