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Shivering, frozen mid the
frosty snow in biting,
stinging winds; running to
and fro to stamp one's icy
feet, teeth chattering in the
bitter chill.

To rest contentedly beside
the hearth, while those
outside are drenched by
pouring rain.

We tread the icy path slowly
and cautiously, for fear of
tripping and falling. Then
turn abruptly, slip, crash on
the ground and, rising,
hasten on across the ice lest
it cracks up. We feel the chill
north winds coarse through
the home despite the locked
and bolted doors ... this is
winter, which nonetheless
brings its own delights.
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