It’s Winter

It’s winter.

It’s not over.

May as well dust off the skis

Usher in some freshness

Let it soak deep, deep

Into your lungs

Let the cold crystals

Melt on your tongue

The spinning wheel by the

fire is squeaking

For some oil

The kettle is whistling

There are seed packs sleeping

in the cupboard

The clock tocks

Time slows, but holds no hostages

It’s winter.