The Winter wind sings, It blows it's frosty breath at the outside wall.
With wispy slender fingers, it creeps about the window pane.
Finding it's way in by seeping through crevices both large and small.
With determination in it's breath a strong hold it seeks to gain.

Perhaps the wind only wants to try and warm it's icy face.
As it  goes slipping  down the chimney flue to a darken room
 You can see it sifting though the warm embers of the fireplace.
 Softly puffing up the dying ashes while  they yet  dance a tune

The silence of the night is muted by the rug of velvet black.
The whippoorwill won't sing his sad melody any more today.
But with the morning dawning light, his song will soon be back.
Even the yard dogs are quiet in their beds, They don't even bay.

The homemade thick quilt has become a trusted friend.
Wrapping about me tightly in a soft cocoon of warm.
It will hold me  snug and tight until the night shall end
I feel secure against the wind and cold can do no harm.

It seems to know that my soul, at night is free to roam.
So it will hold my body safely until I return back home.