As winter winds do whip the shaking buds off branches,
So our hopes fall with the glinting leaves to the sodden earth.
Though glistening masses of snow do ice the tips of the mountain tops,
Our own glow has departed with the summer's candied youth and sport.

The fowl have flown and fled to sweeter, kinder climates
Yet we, evolved creatures, lay in wait at the feet of icicles and drifts.

The howling of the horrible happening floats to our ears and chills our very souls;
We light the flames and kindle the candles and ignore the chill within our bones.
The tingly bells and tufted wreaths and twinkling lights are said to be the spirit of the season,
But the cold, crisp, chilling weather is counted inconsequential; seemingly without reason.



We bundle our little bundles of joy in blankets and button up coats and scarves,
Our bewildered bodies were not made to venture into the blistering, blundering air.
Humans remain, they conquer and continue and keep on, giving little heed to Mother Nature's tongue
Beckoning us away from her battle ground where she has beaten down summer's beauty.

Our families mingle in mockery of the futile attempts the weather has made to deter our merriment;
We gather 'round in our heated homes and admire winter's majesty from behind our great glass castles.

The winter winds do whip at our doors and whistle at our windows; but our human hopes do not fall;
For we have dubious trust that our daunting doors and heated homes will keep out all
Unwanted things that haunt us. And so, we humans, we evolved creatures, remain in the snow,
And believe that we have somehow become small gods, no longer subject to the cold.