A wintry wind does howl and bite,
Outside the pane where shadows throng;
But here within, the fire gives light,
And hums a cheerful, sturdy song.
The trees without, though stark and bare,
In icy silence hold their breath,
Know life within this kitchen fair,
A warm defiance from the hearth.
The logs are stacked, the kindling dry,
The bright, blue kitchen stove glows deep;
While sparks in rosy fancies fly,
And secrets of the winter keep.
From the Stanley Stove the heat does rise,
A welcome to the frost-bound soul,
Bringing a light to weary eyes,
Making the hearth a living whole.
No faerie rings nor ancient spells,
Just honest warmth and simple fare;
Where every humble object tells,
Of life sustained by fire’s care.
The kettle sings, the shadows creep,
The heart finds rest, the mind finds ease;
While ’round the home the spirits sleep,
Beneath the boughs of winter trees.
Colette O’Neill
Samhain 2025