On the windowpane, feathered frost dances in a curl;
Across town, the train whistle sounds one lonely note.
I burrow further, my pajamas sliding on sheets of satin.
The snow is freshly fallen, smooth and glistening satin.
Mrs. Glenn’s wood stove puffs a smoky curl.
Of these small details, I take note.
To my sister I pen a Christmas note,
The luxurious paper glides like satin,
And I sign my name with a heart in the C’s curl.
Around the envelope I curl a ribbon, the note tied up with satin.