an evening poem

Night falls early and I sip a cup of tea.
A quiet room, a peaceful heart, a few hours free.
Winter comes surely, though slowly on its way;
A gift of time to write and read, a special hour to pray.

When daylight becomes bashful and is early to retire,
A softer brilliance warms your heart as you sit before a fire.
You must indeed be careful lest sleep comes too early on;
Unless it suits you pleasantly to be up before the dawn.

"The night is long and dreary," is what many would complain,
But if you see it differently, cheerfulness you'll retain;
When others become weary of darkness out their door,
You'll find within your hearth and heart treasure, love, and lore.