Winter

The North Wind moved across the ponds last night and made them ice.

It came chanting Winter's cold requiem for the dying year in cathedrals of light and
shade.

Along this shore the vagrant patron saint of snow has come to dress the rocks in
vestments of glittering rime.

Grant me one more day in this long autumn of my time. Before the Winter comes; before the chants are sung for me.

Before the chants are sung for me, for one more day, the feel of wool against my skin;a little whiskey with the tea, a fire and your smile.

The North Wind came last night and touched the world with frost which is a prophecy of spring; before the world is born brand new.

Are not our lives consumed before the face of God and washed with such a wind of love that death cannot prevail?

So, grant me one day and hold me close.

Before the chants are sung for me.