Bright firelight and a warming drink
I sit and sip and lazily think
About a picture cold outside
Curled up against a flamed fireside
White flakes that glisten as they fall
Silent visions too numerous to recall
When fields lay white, a frozen bank
The sun drifted away then slowly sank
Across the vale and down the moor
A winter's harvest nestled in store
Where tiny animals hid for shelter
And waited while the snow had melted
The tired, the weak and the forsaken
But still their faith not swayed or shaken
I finish my drink and stir the embers
Only the foolish venture out on cold Decembers
