Triolet In January   My pantry’s stocked, my bottle’s full, I’ll never have to leave my home. When cold is stubborn, like a bull My pantry’s stocked, my bottle’s full, The heat is on, the throttle’s pulled. Holed up here with archaic tomes My pantry’s stocked, my bottle’s full, I’ll never have to leave my home. Tracey Gratch If you've a comment on this poem, Tracey Gratch would be pleased to hear it.