Down a wooded lane strolled a lanky youth.
His laughing grey eyes were barely visible, for his masses of auburn curls poured down his forehead and brow.
With a vigorous shake of his head, Frazer, having freed his roving eyes, surveyed the Wintry woodland.
Tall, leafless trees looked down their noses at him.
Chiding squirrels ran up in dizzying circles up and up the solemn oaks.
One even dared to scurry up the ancient cedar!
The other squirrels stopped and stared in awe.
T'was not ANY squirrel, but the old grey one, Chief, as Frazer called him.
His eyes twinkled with merriment as he rounded a bend in the snowy road.
Soon though, his curls slunk back down his brow, blanketing his view of the wintry wood.
Just as the soft, steady falling snow blanketed that wooded lane.
Frazer actually means curly hair. :)