Fitting

This has been posted before, but it just...fits.

The night is freezing fast,
Tomorrow comes December;
And winterfalls of old
Are with me from the past;
And chiefly I remember
How Dick would hate the cold.

Fall, winter, fall; for he,
Prompt hand and headpiece clever,
Has woven a winter robe,
And made of earth and sea
His overcoat for ever,
And wears the turning globe.

What else fits? Nothing, really. It's cold outside and the snow is inching on the ground. Practice is tonight and that doesn't fit either. The new youth pastor fits. My poem and story for Fine Arts fit. My hair fits, but it soon won't.

The music doesn't fit and I have to go now.