Yes, dear friend, her cold runs deep,
Her frozen earth of
steely stone.
Even in the sun’s brief
glow
Its sharp fangs penetrate
the bone.
Bitter wind sweeps every
corner
Of her tiny village
square,
Sweeping from vast
northern tundra
Spreads its pinpricks
everywhere.
Bundled well in scarf and
parka
Venture out into her
fray,
Blinded white with
falling snowflakes
Stop to watch her
children play.
Snuggled now beside the
fireplace,
Scalding cocoa warms
inside.
Let the chill enjoy her
conquest.
We have nothing left to
hide.
And we huddle at her
leisure
Watching as the days grow
long,
Bound to leap with hope
and joy
As February sings her
song.
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