My abundance is in winter.
I dwell in the peace
of the silent snow,
sitting by the yellow
light of a lamp
with a blanket and a book,
or comfortably close
to him on the love seat.
I find joy in the lack of humidity and
the offensive noise of lawn mowers.
I feel happy covering my homely limbs
with sweaters and jeans instead
of sticky sunscreen and sweat,
and I am justified drinking another hot tea.
There is beauty in the stark outline
of trees and squirrels against whiteness,
or watching my little dog sniff deer tracks
and race inside with a snowy nose.
To come out of the quiet cold
into the warmth of a home,
to hear the furnace kick on,
to snuggle up to a warmer body
under chilly bedsheets
is the abundance of winter.