Come sit by the fire.

Days of Hygge

When skies are grey in Canada
And outside rules a storm,
We snuggle up inside our house
Where “hygge”keeps us warm.

“What is this hooga?”, you may ask—
Not hearing word before,
So “Velkommen”, we say to you,
Step in through our front door—

Where fire’s burning in the stove,
Candles flicker bright,
Table’s set for feasting while
With friends we will unite.

Cozy couches pushed up close
To the wood-fire’s glow.
Toast your neighbor with a “skal”!
Some Aqvavit must flow!

Tasty foods keep coming out
On the heaping plates;
Take up your Tuborg in between—
The hygge rule dictates…

When winter’s breath is blowing
Its dreary days so dank,
We’re cozy in our little house—
The Danes we need to thank.

Kat Mortensen©2007  Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape


22 thoughts on “Come sit by the fire.

  1. Beautiful and compelling! I am most enchanted by this picture of your room/fireplace. I love it when you post pics of your digs! It reminds me of a friend i have in Oklahoma. She is German and grew up on a farm in Nebraska. I like the turquoise/blue paint. Everything! I hope you are well and enjoying the holidays. I imagine it is cold in Canada these days. I liked the part in the poem about food!


  2. TFE, I sincerely wish you were!jenX, Ha ha! Thanks for the compliments on my house. We do love its colourful and cozy ambience.Will be round to visit you soon. P.S. I like the part about the food too—especially the eating of it!lettuce,We call that black and white stuffed cat “Faux Daisy” because it looks like our little b & w female, “Daisy”. (We light the fire all the time— it's actually gas with faux-wood).Protege, yes! You of all people know what “hygge” is all about.Carolyn, yes. It is OUR living room and we love it!Thanks, John. The holiday season is off to a good start. Last night's dinner was a great success! (Although, my stomach was a bit off after the alien excess.)Steviewren, what a nice thing to say. I'm glad you like this one; I do too!


  3. I love your white cat! I had one for 18 years, named Emily. My daughter, who grew up with her, said she spoke with an English accent and privately smoked cigarettes in holders. Wow!You're off and running into the season's cheer. This is a bright poem for a chilly Saturday morning in California.


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