Rattle my window,
chilled of whisked icy wind,
and I in repose in warmth, enclosed,
smiling at the dark affray beyond my pane,
withdrawn from outside din.
No squall or ruckus beyond me,
shall distract my mind from beauty’s hold,
throwing words onto a page,
seeing how they mould and stay,
where thoughts embellish joy.
Warmth embrace this feeble shell,
at whim of nature’s scowl,
her frozen words do tell, so loud,
and I in opposition bleating sunny days,
joyous jaunts and better ways to be.
My room a fortress, my foe battering the walls,
and yet I refuse to comfort lose, or stall,
for winter cannot lose my mind, sunrise imbued,
and words will tell of beauty’s might,
to hold off all the dead of night, ensue.
Tony DeLorger © 2016