The Sails of winter

The cold wicked morning in the winter,
The residue that builds on the cold winter ground,
The sound of hollow trees blowing in the wind,
The bends and creeks from outside your cottage window.
To walk towards the beaches when its cold, below zero,
To watch the snow covering the water, as it sticks, while falling.
A sight of wonder, looking at the sailboats covered in snow,
Thinking if they’re going to sink, while ten feet from the dock.
The smell of warm brewing coffee on the burner,
As you put your boots next to the fire place.
Opening a book to page 53, in chapter 5,
Reading To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee.
Oh, how I missed those days of fishing and sailing,
Waiting until the next time, until the snow melts.