The nights are fair drawin' in....'

And when they do there is little to beat R S Thomas for a good poem by the fire...

Chapel Deacon


Who put that crease in your soul, 
Davies, ready this fine morning 
For the staid chapel, where the Book’s frown 
Sobers the sunlight? Who taught you to pray 
And scheme at once, your eyes turning 
Skyward, while your swift mind weighs 
Your heifer’s chances in the next town’s 
Fair on Thursday? Are your heart’s coals 
Kindled for God, or is the burning 
Of your lean cheeks because you sit 
Too near that girl’s smouldering gaze? 
Tell me, Davies, for the faint breeze 
From heaven freshens and I roll in it, 
Who taught you your deft poise?