A Winter Night
(Robbie Burns)
When biting Boreas, fell and doure,
Sharp shivers thro’ the leafless bow’r;
When Phoebus gies a short-liv’d glow’r,Far south the lift,
Dim-dark’ning thro’ the flaky show’r,
Or whirling drift:
It is, in fact, winter. Officially speaking. Long shadows, shorter day. The solstice.
And Cassidy’s 17 birthday as well. You know, the uber difficult, middle kid.
From here on in, the days get longer. Remember that come June.