Batten down the hatches, all!

Get out the mothie tattered wraps

Soon life will lie in winter’s lap

Gone, the summer, gone the fall.

You thought you were prepared, ah yes, perhaps:

Your ourward insulation might suffice

But inwardly the soul is stiff with  ice

Month by month the frozen vampire sucks the sap.

I would be warm at any price

I’d funnel off the heat of hell

If, next spring all would be well