(a children’s book in need of an artist)

In the winter months when the days are short

When cold grips the ridges and valleys

And ice forms on the edges of the creek and glistens like ribbons of silver in the mid-day sun

When the trees are barren and sway like fingers that are reaching out, pleading with the sun for more of rays… more warmth

When the small animals burrow in soft dens carved out of the rich Appalachian soil

When woodsmoke rises gently through chimneys up the valley and down the valley

There, and then, through a fogged up window pane

A little girl named Maggie looks longingly at her swing hung on the biggest branch of the sugar maple in the front yard

She knows there isn’t enough bundling to be had that will keep winter’s bite off her skin were she to sail through that arctic air on her swing

She is tempted to close her eyes and float away in dreams of soft grass and long days

Until she glances at the hill in her yard

An idea sparks- Maggie races to her room- rummages through her drawers for the warmest clothes

Fluffed up, bundled up, buttoned, zippered, and wrapped, Maggie opens the front door

Marching up the hill with her sled, she can almost feel the joy of zipping back down

And she does, oh she does. And she does. And she does. Until her little legs are wobbly and the sun is low.

Finally spent, she trudges to the door- heavier with the damp layers and warm from the work

Inside- the layers slung, draped, and dripping near the wood stove

The entire family gathered around, enjoying the warmth of hot chocolate, the warmth of the fire, the warmth of family.