If winter had a song it would be deep and slow.

A song that gets carried around in coat pockets,

slowly 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.