The rustle of the wind in the frosty air,
Grey smoke curls in the chimney,
Lifting gently upward,
To hide in the dark of midnight.
Thin a month my tremors died,
In the air, swinging dim light
In the onset of a miracle, believing again, the end of the night will not notice.
Sleep still frozen snowdrifts,
Them the endgame, as above rapid dream about,
Having fulfilled his mission to,
In the haze of spring to dissolve.
Again will cover the tangerine smell,
Forget forcing all about summer,
In the silence of the night,
On soft paws,
The new year is marching across the planet.