Winter Camp
The last sip of lukewarm coffee
Dying fire turns to ember
Woolen cap pulled down tightly
Against winds of December
The leaves have left long ago
Leaving crispy brown carpet
And with the lack of first snow
My passage barely marks it
Pale cold sky veined by bare branch
Lets each breeze follow its will
And midday sun cannot stanch
The coming of winter chill
Monochrome of fall background
A harsh, barren mountain side
Little sound or life around
Save squirrels with nuts to hide
In the lateness of the year
When there is much less to see
People wonder why come here
But it holds its own beauty
The chance to see with distance
This vast mountain and its form
My shelter the resistance
To approaching winter storm
To smell the air crisp and new
Mixed with the scent of wood smoke
Wake to frost instead of dew
A crystallized morning cloak
The blackness of moonless night
Broken by comforting fire
Laughing around campfire light
What more could a heart desire
commonsensiblyspeaking 
So beautiful Brad.You took me through this beautiful journey with your poem
Thank you Meena!
wonderful poem, Brad, but my heart’s desire would be to be sitting on a beach just watching the never-ending ocean waves!
With a good newspaper or two I would presume 🙂
of course!