I wrote this a few years ago and encountered it at random today in some old files. So, for your amusement:
Sonnet in thanks for an Old Coat
In this month when pleasing chills turn to cold,
And the darkening year’s end approaches near,
Like a drowsy bear I seek some stronghold
To mellow in ‘til spring, or, like wine or beer,
Ferment my thoughts, accrete a coat of mold,
And when the summer comes be not just old
By one more year, but more subtle and more bold.
Not free to hibernate, I roam about
By work and inconvenience onward driven,
And against the coldest season turn out
My best defense, the coat my Love has given.
If love were soup and gratitude were muttons,
My thoughts in this coat be fit for gluttons,
Held tight around me by its trusty Buttons.