Winter’s gray morning heaves a cold blast of

Chilly air across the sleepy meadow,

Morning’s sacred desire is golden rays of sunlight

To warm the black soil buried under a snow blanket

We worship the warmth of the stove

Refusing to share our god; then reluctantly

We leave our sanctuary, don our downy coats

Hailing this winter morning with childish vigor

Our footsteps grant permission for a new path

In the deep snow altering ancient landscapes,

Trees transformed by winter’s icy designs

Stand like frozen sentinels

Winter’s dim evenings paint

Shadows over the farm land,

We nestle beside warm fires once again

Feeding our idle minds with memories

About snowy trails and sleds drawn

Slowly uphill towards home,

Lovely snow angels with lost mittens,

Winter’s chill weaves its history