Wintertime by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Late lies the wintry sun abed.

A frosty, fiery sleep he had.

Blinks but an hour or two, and then a blood-red orange sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies, morning in the dark I rise and shivering in my

nakedness by the cold candle bathe and dress. Close by the jolly fire I sit to warm my my frozen bones a bit, Or with a reindeer sled explore,

The colder countries round the door. When to go out, my nurse doth wrap, Me and my comforter, and my cap. The cold wind burns my face and blows its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod, thick blows my frosty breath abroad, and tree and house and hill and lake,

are frosted like a wedding cake.

And that was Wintertime by Robert Louis Stevenson,

read by me, Jana at storynori.com.

Drop by and visit us soon.

Bye for now.