The fireplace is warmed with wood
the oven smells of all things good
and Mother's all begin to spin
making costumes, second skins
while flying ghost cry, misunderstood.
The howl of wind through withered wood
the stalwart stand of fir withstood
the comforters crocheted within
warm the grand children's spindly shins
as Grandma reads Red Riding Hood
Pine cones snap, as fired they should
and scent the sitting room for good
The table's set supper will begin
the Wolf rubs his chinny-chin-chin
and all is well in Autumn's wood.