Out of season...
Here's a little winter poem that came along out of season. At my age, one dasn't wait to share the slightest gift.
The eyes see clearer by winter light,
the stars draw nearer in winter night,
the world more dearer in our sight,
our worries dim and cares but slight
when our hearthfire blazes bright
and kin are close and hearts are right
and house and barn are closed up tight
to shelter us from winter's might,
but when the moon lights up the snow,
unmindful of the winds that blow,
we'll venture out amid the glow,
emboldened so because we know
our shadowed tracks suffice to show
a homeward, warmward rambling row
of signs and traces to bestow
us back where winter flowers grow.