The steadfast way in which these days shall shorten themselves,

and nights of dark and gray, the snow-blazed and windswept

will wrap around us and winter will come and kill the whole world–

I can think of nothing better than under covers and sipping coffee,

of slowly walking through the dust of the season sniffing the pungent

putrefaction of the fallen leaves crumbling into the dirt–

not quite hibernation, but far from the conscience of summer,

will you wait the cold days away with me,

and promise Spring?