Ode to Snow in Charleston

There is a certain ‘Southern charm’
That, while not gone, does come to harm
In winter snows; an ill wind blows
Which shivers though it should be warm.

And nearly everybody knows
In this fine city, how it goes:
A place replete with summer heat
Must, later on, remain unfroze.

Thus, mumbling we all repeat
As if our words would stop the sleet.
“It isn’t fair, this frosty air!”
Foully we weather our defeat.

Amid such loss, we must take care
To give and give, to smile and share
Ourselves. Thereby, never will die
The ‘charm’ so famous everywhere.

Good reputation does not lie
In what emerges from the sky.
Though it may storm, our actions form
What we are known for, by and by.