Michael Morris - Tongue in cheek

Tongue in cheek
My hands are red and chapped and sore
Because the winter wind doth blow.
My body, frozen to the core,
As down my neck drips melting snow.
My feet I stampto bring some life
To toes too cold for for me to feel.
A blast, the cliched whetted knife,
Chills my whole being, crown to heel.
Is there no refuge from this cold
That minds and souls and bodies numb?
Maybe it's just I'm feeling old,
But, Come, Oh Global Warming, Come.

Michael Morris

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tongue-in-cheek/