Outside,
The smell of woodsmoke
Lingers on the night air
As frost settles
On browning blades
Of grass
While inside
I sit before
A banked fire,
Cozily wrapped
Within my heavy chenille robe
And nursing my first hot toddy
Of the season.
A young Katharine Hepburn
Is gracing the screen
Of my high def TV
As an ageless Jo March
And she is taking me back
To simpler times,
When life seemed
As black and white
As an old film;
When,
In Hollywood at least,
Every problem
Had an easy solution.
For these brief moments
I can forget
The endless parade
Of today's gray complexities
And pretend
That whatever is wrong
With the world
Will always work itself out
To the benefit of all.