Quiet Now, Cuckoo

At first feel of cool toes
fall damp quick windful
trees stone washed rain
waves grey in the offing,
we double-lock our doors
shutter dripping wet glass
windows, winter coming
rots round again an end
to barnyard songs anew
the cow mews the gruff
goat starts for the south
slope yearns for the sun.
Nothing can get in nor
can the breath escape
and round and round
we go within the walls
of winter pushing in but
cold will not win warm
your feet inside my legs
fall to sleep my cuckoo.