The wind has turned bitter,
The earth, frozen beneath my feet,
Traveling in a pack,
With our measly tent,
Wrapped up in blankets,
Huddled together,
The warmth thrives.

Outside the tent,
The wind bites,
The rain freezes,
Like tiny needles,
Looking in,
The fire that survives,
Gives no charity,
The gap seemingly infinite.

The fire gives no warmth
To those who will not contribute
Part of themselves as kindling.
But once this is done,
The fire shares its heat.

Learn this,
You'll need it
For being outside the tent
Will freeze your heart
And take your life.