I arrive after bells and vanishing snow, Dressed in greens that the cold won’t know. They toast my coming with lights and cheer, Yet I belong to a quieter year. You’ll seek me in holly, hearth, and ring, But I’m not a holiday

I live in the woods, manmade and small. I house you and provide shelter by nightfall

Old becomes new in a cyclical dance, Transforming waste for a second chance. From bottles of plastic to cans of aluminum, Save resources, help the planet and have some fun.

In some fairy tales, you will find me Perhaps in a swamp, or with witches three Some people lick me to get ‘high’ I won’t give you warts, because that’s a lie.

I’m done when you want to get back to nature. Long summer days, there’s nothing better. Sitting around the fire with a nice cold drink. Just try not to bring everything but the kitchen sink