If winter had a song it would be deep and slow.
A song that gets carried around in coat pockets,
slowing warming cold fingers.
A lone violin, a methodical drum.
Music that gives pause and time for reflection.
A song with the sounds of muffled whispers, crunching footsteps
and grainy long grey shadows.
A solo tune that echoes into the dark night
music that is slowly swayed to in colourful knitted socked feet,
and listened to on plump fluffed up blankets.