If there is a shiver
And tall grasses quiver
When the earth itself
Feels winter’s stealth
And Even bright moon
Seems crisp, knowing soon,
Crackling wood fireplace
Is needed for this space
Where hand knitted afghan
Is part of the plan.
I shop for cap and mitten,
So freezing blast won’t have bitten.
Those I hold so dear to me,
Cold blowing winds, “Let them be.”
