Apparently, it was August in Arizona,
when the snows came on down
and Santa was seen as silhouette
on silent nights.
It was a weird weekend.

Nobody was sure what was going on.
The rest of the Southwest
was not experiencing inclimate weather
– and it was not a dry cold.
It was a slushy snow
that was great for packing and building.

Soon enough, Frosty came out to play,
though he made no mention
of returning on Christmas Day.
He didn’t want to suggest that lightning
would strike twice in this part of the world.

As mentioned, it didn’t last more
than a weekend.
Things started to thaw out
and the seasons realigned
and this Phoenix fantasy fizzled.
Pretty cool for the instants it lasted, though.