Peering through the snow-laced windows,
the world awash in alabaster light;
A frosty sky chills this wintry afternoon,
as the North winds whip onward in flight.

Inside, the gurgling sound of my teapot,
lifts up my spirits toward warm renewal;
As icy shards form quickly from the roof,
and I grab the teacup sitting by my stool.

Wrapped heavily in my flannel blankets,
sipping slowly as I watch the matchstick trees;
Their limbs swathed in feathers of oyster white,
lean together with their branches dangling free.

How picturesque a scene from my own window,
reviving memories of how the seasons change;
Although I've neared the end of my life's journey,
this graceful portrait can never be rearranged.