Special Weather Alert

There's little that's exciting in the cold;
The only crackle in the air is snow,
Which is a child's fantasy, I'm told,
But isn't much to go on even so.
I would have thought, since this is Chicago,
There'd be a little more excitement here:
Perhaps an eerie undetermined glow
Lighting up the white with yellow fear,
Perhaps an indication that, though clear,
The day will take revenge in wind and chill.
But everything is simply cold and drear,
As if the winter might have wished us ill,
But froze before it could impose that will:
Yet I'll admit that it's a bad day still.