We all expect the nights to be long
As we concoon ourselves inside our homes
Nothing to disturb the daily slumber except for winter's invisible
knife cutting life’s cord
We long for longer days and sunshine
To come out of the den fattened and ready to run
We expect nothing to change but for great things ahead
Except for the slow tapping of the skeleton fingers upon one's window
Winter's fingers are coming to embrace life's forgotten joy
So embrace it's little tricks and fancies before winter's skeleton becomes your own
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