perfume of winter

i taste in the zephyrs,
the eloquence of kindling fire,
with their silver-tongued fluency,
and product of yule-tide smokes.

that elucidated, rustic scent of smoke and cold
is the perfume of the winter solstice,
of which courses through veins, laid and sewn into the body,
of dear old Jack Frost.

the relishing of steamy peppermint drinks,
and the gathering of lively, frosted spirits,
is coupled with the eloquency
of the said, kindling fires.

that myriad of savoring souls,
continue in their state of awareness,
all until the eleventh hour,
when sleep arrives to carry them,

along.