It is Warming to Winter
The satsuma huesAre giving way
In the gloaming.
The breeze is sharper
For being colder.
The trees are more heroic
For being empty.
And everything is harder
For being windswept.
There is some gentle diablerie about this:
A magic that makes home even more familiar
And more charming...
In a comfy consequence.
If the cold is as hard
As the blackest frozen blue
So the stars are pointed,
I am eager to thaw
Where I feel native.
December 2004