Winter is smiling, hot chocolate, and snow:

early nights, shorter days, father’s kiss --

It’s snowmen and mittens and sledding and ice,

and wonderful days full of bliss --

It’s waiting for buses on dark, cold mornings,

broken hearts, a face frozen with tears --

It’s forcing your child into wearing a jacket,

frigid sighs as the days pass, the years --

It’s sitting alone under piles of blankets, wise

eyes staring into the fire --

Winter is frost creeping over a grave, icy smoke

from a funeral pyre.