The Northern Front (Weather Poetry)

At the end of six weeks I did spy....
A dawning of light in the southern sky...
Though it didn't last long...
It started a song..
As a blowing sound passed by..
For its warming wave...
Caused the artic to cave...
And move out to the world around...

As the north begins to warm...
The cold fronts start to form...
In a move to the south..
From the foul bears mouth...
It's Januarys frontal storm..
The arctic air glides..
Til the bear subsides..
And moderation in temperatures abound....