Comfort Food Weather

comfort food weather morning simpers above the trees pallid almost white the golden roar of summer of warmer times has turned away migrated to the bottom of the world earth is spare, lean and hard with frost I run to the wood stove it perks merrily bright coals hungry for fresh fuel I dress hurriedly chills chasing across my back. these are vivid, stark days filled with complete wakefulness. clear eyes shed watery tears and lungs gasp at cold airs intrusion. frozen logs chime as they stack beech, ash, maple and oak. I move toward the cottage arms filled with the days coziness. dinner, soon to be cooked. I pass the garden daubed in various browns, not one echo of her former glory. yet I see spring rising up from the still visible mounds where bulbs lay in wait. a winter witch glides across the sky dragging grey black snow clouds in her frigid wake; this is the day for stew and loaves of fresh baked soda bread.