Scurrying home on a Winter here

Grey strokes the winding snow
Against the window fearless blow
Trenchant, tearing, cradling, dying

Reborn in gusts and strident gale
Who knows how will end the tale
Drenched, torn, dying

Silent grows the night too soon
A locked and bolted door my boon
The fire newly sighing

A duvet keeps those fears away
And stands the wolves of night at bay
My frosty hands vying

For the warmth of you, the heat of us
The bowl of soup and a hearty crust
The night no longer prying