Winter's Admirer

What do I see but the pale white veil
Of the hills like white envelopes of winter mail?
What do I hear but the yearning cry
Of a dozen gray geese in the Arctic sky?
What do I smell but the crisp, thick fume
Of the smoke in our snug brown cabin room?
What do I taste but the syrup's sweet
Of the maple's vast and enriching treat?
What do I feel but the warm, soft glove
Of the man I adore in the month I love...
The season I cherish, so full of sensations
I love, deeply love, without hesitations.