Sanctuary In The Storm

The hail taps gently, then harder still,

On windowpanes that shake and chill;

The wind sings wild through eaves and stone,

While you draw close, content, alone.

Beyond the glass, the town stirs,

Engines hum and nightwind whirs;

A siren wails through silver air,

And spinning blades drift out there.

Yet here, the bath begins to steam,

With herbs and bubbles, soft as dream;

Candle-flames dance in tender light,

And hush the edges of the night.

The storm may rage, the dark may call,

But warmth and peace enfold it all;

And in that glow, you breathe and know —

You’ve pushed the world back, soft and slow.