It's bright but cold outside
In the world beyond the back doors;
It's dull and grey in the dining-room
Where the table and chairs and the dog's crate lives,
It's cold in there too. I shut us in
And draw the curtains, both doors closed,
We begin to relax and find comfort
In the rooms solitary heat. After much scrambling
I reside myself to lowlier climes; I lie beside her
On the floor, in the fire glow and fatiguing heat.
My eyelids raise and fall, like an ocean's swell;
As whip-cracks and the grinding of bone on teeth
Fill my ears. We lie, hind-quarters outstretched;
The dog to a bone and myself to sleep.