Here’s a poem by Ted Kooser from Winter Morning Walks.

All through the night,
the deeply troubled, sighing furnace
has tried to console one whimpering floorboard
that wants to return to its tree.

Beyond the walls, milky, translucent snow,
brushed into drifts
by the long blue fingers of shadow.

The snow has gathered as much of the light as it can
from the stars, but that’s not enough warmth
to kindle the eyes of even one rabbit,
frozen still as a stone at the corner of morning.

Too tired to chatter tonight. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.