The Two Houses

I pity that house

whose snow-bedecked yard

lacks good-hearted snowangels

standing their guard.

Where a squirrel eating seed

needn't sharply petition

more accurate throwing

of white ammunition.

Whose steepest descents

lie smooth and so fair

with narry a grass

by tobogan laid bare.

Where lacking are cries,

"My nose feels frostbitten!"

And, "Wouldn't you know?

I've misplaced my mitten!"



Whose guests are not greeted

by families of white

Carefully crafted

to look perfectly right.

But blessed is that house

with doorway of puddles

where shoes of the many

get into great muddles.

Where Christmasy lights

are of color! Not bland

and preferably blink

when switched on by the hand.

So perhaps a bit lively

with plenty of chatter

'specially when cocoa's

to be had by the fire.

But I'll take that house

full of kids to the top

to the serenest abode

happy children, has not.