of red and orange, and skies of blue.
When the air cracks and bites your tongue
like sweet mint candy when you were young-
these are the days
when summer fades
into covered skin
and warmth within
the comfort of one's own home.
Where the snow looks so alone
only until the children dress
and run to relieve their happiness
on the blank slate of frost,
and no matter how much heat is lost
to the hunger of cold
for now, they will never grow old
in the endless expanse of white.
Then the cover of night
will call them home,
bring back warmth to frozen toes
with hot chocolate to revive the nose.
Friends and family by the fire
serenaded by the radio's choir
and somewhere in their minds
they leave their troubles behind.
Peace on earth, good will to men-
every winter, over again.