The desert has no monopoly on mirages.
“Now, when it ends dripping, due to temperatures tipping
and winds begin whipping, soon senses commence dipping.
It’s Winters’ Wraith gripping, her froze hair nose nipping
and I think my brain’s slipping, ’cause there’s a catfish snow skipping!
He seems resolute but, I’m not absolute.
I see no hat, coat or boot, though boots would be moot.
Just a black and white suit below a weird whiskered snoot,
seems a quite affable brute with his cute, frugg n’ scoot, scoot.
My mind has lost me!…This fish cannot be!
For sure not in defrost, air land or even, sea!
Then his voice, tossed across; “Have you seen the other three?”
Now, I’m going to get sauced and it appears he’s coming with me!