A purple thing of thick and soft
A velvet lace at wrists and knees
A rebellious lock of crimson hair
Fluttering in the winter's breeze
Held aloft on freckled cheeks
And billowing in all-seen breath
As wicked flakes began to gather
And bury her beneath their depth

A lambskin glove on flushing fingers
Helped to keep the heat within
As bitter winter-whitened landscapes
Hid away the Autumn's sins
And in this path towards the cabin
Her leather boots began to trod
And once again the cruel curl
Swung about with every nod

Her head was swaying with each footstep
Her heart was beating with each sigh
Her purple winter velvet doublet
Would keep her warm through winter's night
She closed the door as winds would howl
And scratch at cracks to get inside
As the fire spread through her face
She cracked a bone-white smile, wide

Another jaunt into the forest
Another scrape with nature too
Another night of simple pleasures
Of reading Proust and cooking stew
Her traps were set
Her ax was sharp
Her bow laid by the door
She had healed from the pain of Summer
And she hoped she'd see the Spring no more