The sky sinks low, flat grey and leaking rain,
A misty wet wind shakes the sodden leaves;
Raindrops run down my neck and up my sleeves;
Gutters sing a pitter-patter refrain.
I duck my head under the barn doorframe.
My worn gloves are wet and starting to freeze.
Smoke from the house chimney feels like a tease;
I want to feel the wood stove’s warming flames.