A winter poem I love. It came to me on a recent winter ride.
Pile hight the hickory and the light
Log of chestnut struck by the blight,
Welcome in the winter night.
The day has gone in hewing and felling,
Sawing and drawing wood to the dwelling
For the night of talk and story-telling,
These are the hours that give the edge
To the blunted axe and the bent wedge,
Straighten the saw and lighten the sledge
Here are question and reply,
And the fire reflected in the thinking eye,
So peace, and let the bob-cat cry.
-Edna St.Vincent Millay