WINTER'S DREAM

The house is still
in the predawn.
The floorboards creak
as I try to quietly
cross my children's room.
Straightening the quilts
I cover them up.
The curtains whisper
in the draft.
Outside a fog hangs
frozen in the air.
Moonlight glistens
on the silver tipped trees.
Long shadows spread across
a blanket of white.
My breath condenses
on the windowpane;
bare limbs become chilled.
The wind is silent.
a hint of pink appears
over the hill top
The world is cold,
quite and safe.
Quickly I return
to the warmth of my room.
Snuggle under the covers
and dream of summer.