Outside a silver prairie;
inside a lamplit book
Your sweater smells of cedar
I learn the way you look
The wind rehearses distance
the kettle shortens miles;
we host a small rebellion—
two chairs two open smiles
I underline the margins
where laughter overwrote;
you tuck a stray hair northward
and stitch my fraying coat
When gusts patrol the eavestrough
we bless the stubborn pane—
to build a room is wisdom
to keep its fire again