There's a chill in the air
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That doesn't want to leave
And won't depart for months
Against our pleas and insistent begging.
The leaves, the clouds, the children
All signal that it is time for settling in
For another long winter
Beside the fire and under the blankets.
The days will get shorter and colder
But we will stay and revel in it
Toughening our spirits and our skin
Laughing at those who run the other way.
People declare every new year
That this will be their last winter
In the frigid cold, surrounded by snow
But come the next year, they are still here.
As much as we all hate it
And complain and rail against the cold
We are still here, preparing ourselves
Knowing that in eight months, it will be too hot.