One is thinking about the absurdity.
Everything is looking White.
Animals are taking rest with the Sun's bright.
Hibernation is started between all of them.
To give a rousing shake, one needs to set
the flame.
And lonely as it is, that loneliness
With no expression, nothing to express.
Day is too good, Night is so cold.
The creatures are looking like a garish wrapper's mould.
The Woodchuck takes a great Hibernation
No chance is there, no alternation.
Winter cannot scare me with its empty space.
To scare myself with my own desert place.
Blizzard starts soon after.
My aching heart invites a mitigator.
Ceasing is the favour of Winter.
Call of the wintry bed comes to the mortal ear.
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