Cabin in the Woods

I stumbled through the cold and ice,
my collar up against the chill,
when up ahead I saw a house
built of warm and honeyed wood
resting on a gentle hill.

A house within a wonderland, of frosted trees
and sparkling flakes of crystal snow,
with icicles, hung low.
Footprints there were sharp and clear,
along the paths the Robin takes.

I followed him along his way
and heard the voice of Jenny Wren.
A fire I saw within the hearth
and children’s laughter signalled then
that I am safe and home again.

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