Chicago likes to play these dirty tricks:
A day like this one, cloudy, dull, and grey,
Will be much warmer than the wintry mix
Of sun and cold that falsely fills the day
Throughout December, promising a heat
That, like this morning's cold, is seen, not felt.
On days like this the sunshine will retreat,
And yet I daresay water would still melt;
But in the coming months, the sun will shine
In lying beams of bright frigidity,
And those of us who cursed this day will pine
For greyer lies lapped in liquidity.
Yet old Chicago will keep keeping on
Lying until the winter too is gone.
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