The houses of winter stand in a row With chimneys that billow and windows that glow They play out their scenes for the snow drifts and icy streets at night Inside they are clearing their dishes away Watching the news and recounting the day And reading their children stories before their bedtime And when the rites of the evening are done The lights in the windows go dark one by one Until the inhabitants all fall asleep And the houses of winter become houses of dreams And they tend their fires with care And whisper a prayer For their dreamers safe-keeping As the cold blows wind at the doors And hangs icicle swords Where his captives are sleeping The houses of winter stand in the cold Fending off blizzards and murderous lows Biding their time till they breathe in the April breeze again Harboring lives with their walls and their roofs Watching like mothers watch over their broods Wakeful as monks meditating before the day begins And in the darkness, before the day starts They ponder the purpose in their furnace hearts And hope that the people for whom their hearts burn With love, the long winter, will love with their own hearts in turn And they tend their fires with care And whisper a prayer For their dreamers safe-keeping As the cold blows wind at the doors And hangs icicle swords Where his captives are sleeping And Orion holds court in the sky And night owls fly above frozen rivers And dreams, like chimney smoke rise From behind the closed eyes In the houses of winter