Hibernation: An Art

Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so. ~Stanley Crawford, American writer and farmer

‘Tis the season for us to hibernate,
Hole up indoors and try to acclimate
While the snows outside start to accumulate
And the frigid temperatures rush to accelerate.

The wise prepare for this transition to incubate:
They gather food when the weather is adequate,
Gas for the car and wood for the grate;
Books, movies, puzzles while they isolate.

This season of quiet gives us time to cogitate
The meaning of Life and how we might mitigate
The miseries others face and extrapolate
Things we can do to make peace proliferate.

Of course, none of us can ever anticipate,
Nor can anyone fully appreciate
How long, how dreary this time we tolerate.
Ideas germinate, but we procrastinate.

We mean to get things done, but wait!
A nap is calling, so we vacillate.
Clean closets, tax prep, and such might motivate.
Maybe tomorrow. Today we vegetate!

Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse, I think.