Shut The Wind Out

The heavy latch clicks in the frame.

The hallway smells of cedar wood.

I shake the white dust from my coat.

It feels so good to stand right here.

We are safe inside these four walls.

The dark can stay outside the door.

Your coat is hanging next to mine.

The air in here is soft and still.

You hear my step and turn around.

The stove is glowing low and red.

My cold cheeks start to feel the heat.

The winter stays across the yard.

We are safe inside these four walls.

No wind can reach us through the pane.

Your coat is hanging next to mine.

The room is glowing soft and bright.

The streetlights blur behind the glass.

The trees are bending in the dark.

But every shadow stops right here.

Where you and I are sitting down.

We are safe inside these four walls.

The cold just makes the kitchen sweet.

Your coat is hanging next to mine.

The air in here is soft and still.

The heavy latch holds strong and quiet.

The house is holding all our warmth.

We do not need to go outside.

We have everything right here.

The copper pot begins to sing.

A small white cloud rises in the air.

I pull two ceramic cups right down.

And set them on the wooden board.

Warmth is simple when you are here.

Steam is curling toward the roof.

We watch the dark gather outside.

And sip until our hands feel soft.

You slide a chair across the floor.

The floorboards hum beneath your feet.

No word is needed in the dark.

Just hot water and dry tea leaves.

Warmth is simple when you are here.

The metal shines under the lamp.

We watch the dark gather outside.

And sip until our hands feel soft.

The wind can blow across the roof.

The frost can build upon the ledge.

We have this table and this light.

And nowhere else we need to be.

Warmth is simple when you are here.

Steam is curling toward the roof.

We watch the dark gather outside.

And sip until our hands feel soft.

The kettle cools upon the stove.

The kitchen hums a quiet song.

Your hand rests near the wooden board.

And all is well inside the house.

Unlace the leather at the door.

The thick wool socks are dry and warm.

My frozen toes begin to breathe.

I leave the snow out on the mat.

It is good to come back home.

The floor feels solid underneath.

We leave the highway in the cold.

And keep the quiet to ourselves.

You bring a blanket to the couch.

The wool is gray and soft and heavy.

I sit beside you on the rug.

And watch the porch light fill with snow.

It is good to come back home.

The floor feels solid underneath.

The frozen road is far away.

And keep the quiet to ourselves.

Outside the frost is growing thick.

Inside the shadows move so slow.

We do not count the passing hours.

We only feel the gentle heat.

It is good to come back home.

The floor feels solid underneath.

We leave the highway in the cold.

And keep the quiet to ourselves.

The boots sit drying by the wall.

The house is steady in the dark.

My feet are warm against the rug.

We rest right here until the morning.

Look at the glass against the night.

The flakes are big and drift down slow.

They cover up the garden bench.

They cover up the gravel path.

The snow is filling up the yard.

It softens every sound out there.

We stay inside where lights are low.

And let the evening slow us down.

You stretch your arms and lean right back.

A book is open on your lap.

The pages turn without a sound.

While ice builds on the outer frame.

The snow is filling up the yard.

It covers every fence and stone.

We stay inside where lights are low.

And let the evening slow us down.

No car goes by along the lane.

The night is wider than before.

It feels like all the world is still.

Just sleeping under thick white wool.

The snow is filling up the yard.

It softens every sound out there.

We stay inside where lights are low.

And let the evening slow us down.

The garden bench is hidden now.

The white keeps falling smooth and deep.

We close the curtain on the pane.

And turn to face the yellow light.

The birch log crackles in the stove.

Red sparks jump up against the screen.

I pull my seat a little near.

To catch the heat upon my knees.

The fire keeps the frost away.

It paints the walls in gold and brown.

I look across and see you smile.

There is no place I'd rather be.

You stack another piece of wood.

The pine smoke smells like summer trees.

The shadows dance upon the rug.

As outdoor temperatures fall down.

The fire keeps the frost away.

It fills the corner of the room.

I look across and see you smile.

There is no place I'd rather be.

The wind can whistle down the chimney.

It cannot touch the place we sit.

We have the resin and the flame.

To keep us safe until the dawn.

The fire keeps the frost away.

It paints the walls in gold and brown.

I look across and see you smile.

There is no place I'd rather be.

The red coal glows so steady now.

The warmth stays deep inside the room.

Your chair is right beside my chair.

We rest together in the dark.

The heavy quilt is pulled up high.

It smells of lavender and wool.

We listen to the window shake.

And pull the edges to our chin.

There is nowhere we must be.

The night belongs to you and me.

The world outside can freeze and shine.

We are sheltered here in bed.

Your shoulder rests against my arm.

Your breathing is steady, slow and deep.

The clock ticks quiet on the shelf.

Measuring nothing in the dark.

There is nowhere we must be.

The morning is a long way off.

The world outside can freeze and shine.

We are sheltered here in bed.

Let all the roads be blocked with ice.

Let all the buses stay in place.

We have this corner of the house.

And soft wool wrapped around our knees.

There is nowhere we must be.

The night belongs to you and me.

The world outside can freeze and shine.

We are sheltered here in bed.

The quilt keeps out the January cold.

Your hand is warm inside my hand.

We shut our eyes and let it rest.

There is nowhere else to go.

I hear you walking down the hall.

Soft socked feet on oak floorboards.

You stop to turn the hallway lamp.

And pour two glasses from the jug.

It is good to hear you move.

The house is living while it snows.

You bring the quiet to my side.

And sit right down beside my chair.

You set the glass upon the table.

The wood is smooth beneath my hand.

A gentle shadow on your face.

Shows that the long day is done.

It is good to hear you move.

The roof is holding up the white.

You bring the quiet to my side.

And sit right down beside my chair.

A house is just a box of pine.

Until somebody walks inside.

Now every board under our feet.

Feels gentle, strong and warm.

It is good to hear you move.

The house is living while it snows.

You bring the quiet to my side.

And sit right down beside my chair.

Your footsteps rest beside my own.

The oak boards hum and settle down.

The night is peaceful all around.

We share the comfort of the house.

The woolen scarf comes off my neck.

My nose is red, my ears are cold.

I hang the scarf upon the peg.

And feel the hall receive my frame.

The cold makes home a better place.

It makes the air in here feel rich.

I put my hands against your sleeve.

And feel the warmth you saved for me.

The walk from town was long and sharp.

The wind was cutting through the trees.

But now the rug is soft and dry.

And dinner simmers on the stove.

The cold makes home a better place.

It turns the hallway into gold.

I put my hands against your sleeve.

And feel the warmth you saved for me.

Without the frost upon the street.

We would not know how good this is.

To stand inside an entry hall.

And let the freezing coat drop down.

The cold makes home a better place.

It makes the air in here feel rich.

I put my hands against your sleeve.

And feel the warmth you saved for me.

The woolen scarf hangs on the peg.

The ice is melting on the floor.

I am home where I belong.

Safe and warm beside you now.

I watch the blue flame under steel.

The little bubbles start to form.

You cut two slices from the bread.

And set the butter on the plate.

We take our time when it is cold.

No need to hurry through the night.

The steam is rising to the shelf.

And all the room is full of peace.

The butter melts upon the crust.

The kitchen window turns to fog.

I trace a circle with my thumb.

And see the dark yard through the glass.

We take our time when it is cold.

No need to hurry through the night.

The heat is spreading through the room.

And all the room is full of peace.

The wind can rattle at the latch.

It cannot change what we have here.

A simple crust, a hot drink made.

A quiet space for two to share.

We take our time when it is cold.

No need to hurry through the night.

The steam is rising to the shelf.

And all the room is full of peace.

The water whistles low and sweet.

I pour it slow into the cups.

We sit together at the table.

And let the long night carry on.

The sky turns dark at four o'clock.

The winter blue goes into black.

I turn the small shade by the couch.

And yellow light floods on the floor.

This corner keeps us safe and bright.

The darkness stays behind the glass.

We sit together in the glow.

And let the world go silent now.

You pull your feet up on the cushion.

The cotton throw is folded double.

The lamp light lands upon your hair.

Making the dark seem far away.

This corner keeps us safe and bright.

The street is hidden in the dark.

We sit together in the glow.

And let the world go silent now.

Outside the frost is sharpening.

The branches freeze inside the yard.

Inside the yellow bulb is soft.

And holds us in a circle here.

This corner keeps us safe and bright.

The darkness stays behind the glass.

We sit together in the glow.

And let the world go silent now.

The lamp light shines across the room.

The shadows rest against the wall.

We stay right here inside the glow.

Until the morning comes again.

I pull the sweater over head.

The heavy weave is rough and warm.

It smells of dry cedar and wool.

And shields me from the drafty door.

Some things are made to keep us safe.

Like heavy threads and quiet rooms.

I wrap my arms around myself.

And feel the cold retreat away.

You wear the green one with the collar.

It is faded at the elbow joints.

We sit like two bears in a cave.

While ice is crusting on the wall.

Some things are made to keep us safe.

Like thick wool clothes and steady walls.

I wrap my arms around myself.

And feel the cold retreat away.

The winter tests the roof and frame.

It checks for cracks along the sill.

But we are layered thick and dry.

And nothing chilly gets inside.

Some things are made to keep us safe.

Like heavy threads and quiet rooms.

I wrap my arms around myself.

And feel the cold retreat away.

The wool holds heat against my skin.

The draft is gone, the air is still.

We rest together in our coats.

And let the winter do its work.

I close the ledger on the desk.

The pen is laid beside the ink.

The work of this cold day is done.

There are no tasks left to complete.

Rest comes easy in the dark.

When snow is piling on the steps.

We close the paper and the ink.

And let our tired hands go still.

You close your book and mark the page.

And lean your head against my chest.

The clock ticks slow upon the wall.

We have no phone calls left to make.

Rest comes easy in the dark.

When ice is heavy on the roof.

We close the paper and the ink.

And let our tired hands go still.

The world outside keeps demanding more.

But in this house the night is clear.

We mark the end of honest toil.

And take the peace we earned today.

Rest comes easy in the dark.

When snow is piling on the steps.

We close the paper and the ink.

And let our tired hands go still.

The ledger rests upon the shelf.

The room is quiet, warm and deep.

My hands are still inside your hands.

We sleep whenever we are ready.

The frost makes feathers on the window.

White ferns grow across the pane.

I press my palm close to the glass.

And feel the chill that lives out there.

The cold is quiet at the glass.

It cannot cross into the room.

I turn around to look at you.

And find the warmth right where you sit.

A gentle clicking on the frame.

Small sleet is tapping in the wind.

It makes the rug feel twice as soft.

It makes the blanket twice as thick.

The cold is quiet at the glass.

It stays outside where it belongs.

I turn around to look at you.

And find the warmth right where you sit.

Let winter draw its picture there.

Let ice grow thick upon the ledge.

It only shows how safe we are.

Behind the wooden window frame.

The cold is quiet at the glass.

It cannot cross into the room.

I turn around to look at you.

And find the warmth right where you sit.

The frost ferns glow under the lamp.

The glass is cold, the room is warm.

I draw my hand back to my side.

And rest right here beside you now.

The heavy mug is hot to hold.

My fingertips absorb the heat.

The steam curls up against my face.

And smells of cinnamon and bark.

A warm cup calms the whole body.

It melts the winter from the bone.

We sit together at the table.

And hold our mugs with both our hands.

You blow across the liquid rim.

Small ripples move across the dark.

The radiator hums a song.

Filling the kitchen with warm air.

A warm cup calms the whole body.

It brings the quiet to the heart.

We sit together at the table.

And hold our mugs with both our hands.

It takes so little to be glad.

Just hot water, clay, and wood.

And someone sitting by your side.

To share the quiet night with you.

A warm cup calms the whole body.

It melts the winter from the bone.

We sit together at the table.

And hold our mugs with both our hands.

The clay stays warm inside my grip.

The long day softens into rest.

We sip together slow and quiet.

And let the cold stay outside.

I place a log upon the coal.

The dry bark catches with a hiss.

A warm orange light flares up again.

And drives the shadows to the door.

We keep the fire burning bright.

It watches over us all night.

No cold can creep inside this house.

While we are sitting by the hearth.

You lean over and adjust the screen.

The metal is warm beneath your touch.

The room is peaceful, deep and dark.

Except for where the birch wood burns.

We keep the fire burning bright.

It paints the ceiling warm and red.

No cold can creep inside this house.

While we are sitting by the hearth.

The snow may pile against the door.

The ice may freeze the river solid.

But in this hearth the ember lives.

And keeps us safe until the dawn.

We keep the fire burning bright.

It watches over us all night.

No cold can creep inside this house.

While we are sitting by the hearth.

The log settles down into red.

The gentle heat stays in the air.

We lean together on the rug.

And watch the coals hum through the night.

The clock says it is late tonight.

But no one wants to move away.

The rug is soft under our heels.

The wool blanket covers both our knees.

We do not need to end this now.

The night is long and full of rest.

Just stay right here beside my side.

And listen to the snow fall down.

You rest your head against the cushion.

Your fingers trace the woven thread.

The quiet in the room is deep.

Like we are standard in the world.

We do not need to end this now.

The house is warm in every room.

Just stay right here beside my side.

And listen to the snow fall down.

Tomorrow brings its own cold wind.

Tomorrow has its paths to clear.

But right now time is holding still.

Inside this small and yellow light.

We do not need to end this now.

The night is long and full of rest.

Just stay right here beside my side.

And listen to the snow fall down.

The snow keeps falling on the roof.

Your hand is warm inside my own.

We stay right here until the dawn.

Safe and sheltered from the cold.