a poem

The ground was thick with snow.
The wind howled as it drove past the eaves of the house. On
these windy days, the house creaked eerily,
as if it were trying to stand and walk from its foundation.
I was glad to be inside on such a day.
The wind shrieked,
like banshees, as it continued
to swirl around the house, casting spells
on the neighboring oaks, which
had limbs of mottled grey
and orange and rotting leaves.
I was glad to be inside on such a day,
With my feet propped cozily up
onto the thick,wooden ottoman
that rested near the rust- colored
reclining chair near the fireplace.

The flames glowed like sunlight over the winter snow.