Jack Frost Poem by Ima Ryma

I am called Jack Frost, artist who,
When cold weather does come to pass,
Creates my works of art that do
Be later found on exposed glass.
I take the moisture from the air
And on the glass do spread it out,
So through the night it freezes there,
Leaving art patterns all about.
Fern like the patterns often be,
That glisten like jewels in the light,
Welcoming passersby to see
My masterpiece done overnight.

In early morn you find my yield
That you must scrape from the windshield.