Evasion

The shivering poplar trees stand guard, Along the road that skirts our yard. While at their feet the snowdrifts play, As travellers hurry on their way.

Content to weather out the storm, Here in the house so snug and warm, I recline behind this pane of glass, Watching the red-cheeked youngsters pass.

And I think, It is wise to remain inside. But am I trying the truth to hide? Do I say it because I fear the cold? Aw, that’s absurd--I am not that old!