we could drink mulberry wine
just above the treeline
bringing you closer to me
complaining I'd freeze

we could have cider at noon
in my living room
the two of us lying
in the sunlight too soon

we can drink poorly spiced beer
lighting a fire right here
the stove searing hot
warming through the knots

soon we'll need nothing
just the other right there
held together with hope
never too far or too near