Winters' Bone


We say goodbye
to all things grown,
and endure the chill
of the winters' bone

And build our fires
to keep us cozy
the lot needs shoveling
so off I mosey

There's errands to run
on these icy roads
as I travel amongst
the white abodes

The long day's short
on the way back home
for another days' white
of the winters' bone

I took a fresh look at this today and changed lines two and four of the fourth stanza for better flow.