So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
      -- Robert Frost 

New Windows

Luminous, the snowfalls of youth, promising
Snow days – the world, spinning like a centrifuge.
Inside, through drafty windows, the faint whirring
         Of wind, stealing warmth.

Ice-edged, rattling – tapping – slow, some – Morse code
as babies slept. While the children, as if called,
Waited for the aftermath to navigate
         A new white terrain.

Today, storms are silent as the calm before.
New windows, double-paned, insulate, keeping
Cold, wind at bay. Babies, children sleep; well past
        When snow piles, knee-deep.