on crackling cold

The choke-hold of winter now strangles our eaves, it's cracking our knuckles and making us sneeze. For refuge we venture deep into the earth, where tunnels and crannies provide us with berth. With tubers and preserves our redoubts abound, perishables keep best when stored underground. Most homes have been shuttered, their pipes drained and dry, tasks performed with diligence, not on the fly. The caves we make cozy, with wood-fires and such, we're easy to pleasure and don't ask for much. Please stop being stubborn and come down below, we promise you'll be warmer than in the snow. It is our tradition, it is tried and true, we've picked out a splendid cave carved just for you. Set up your belongings, with whimsy unfurled, down in geothermally-warmed underworld.

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