In New England we only love the fall
Because we can hunker down in warm
Houses to defeat the cold and hope in all
That the sweet birds will sing and swarm,

As they congregate in choirs upon those boughs;
When frozen dirt thaws to spawn the flower
And greet the bud that from sullen earth grows
To demonstrate the God of nature’s power.

The wintry nights teach us well to love
Those things that barely live a season,
And yet beckon us to look beyond, above
That which transcends all reason.

In winter, after all, we celebrate the birth
That in the darkest season beats death’s dearth.