SFT

Midwinter

Down past the cottage and over the creek, through the meadow with fast-trotting feet.

The air is thin and the World looks silver, puffing out clouds as the plants wilt and shiver.

Midwinter grasps tightly and bites at your nose, wandering the path wherever it goes.

Following the fence back up to home, putting on the kettle to warm up your bones.

Time for a cuppa with socks on your toes, snuggling down in a thick-knitted throw.