And now as this northern wind blows cold
I desire to read poets and writers of old-
those scribes we can no longer blithely hire
as I sit sipping tea under a blanket by the fire.
Oh give me a pithy Shakespearean play
to digest as I dreamily drain the day away
or a hearty Dickens feast to eat
or an Austen romance, both naive and sweet…
for as the autumn and winter set in again
I feel the need to be with long buried friends.