I'm soaking the beans.
Sleet beats against the screens,
the horses stand
with their rumps to the storm
on the downwind side of the barn.
I brought in the wood,
it's dry in the bin.
Birds are thick at the feeder:
juncos, cardinals, chickadees.
Ice on the trees
turns them silver.
I can tell by the smell
that hot loaves are ready to
come out of the oven.
The cats have been fed,
the soup's almost done;
time to get out the butter
and try that bread.
Hot cider would be good,
with cinnamon sticks.
I'm staying inside forever.
I'll never go out, no never go out
in this weather.