Friday, February 5, 2010
Poetry Friday: Relearning Winter
With another gigantic snowstorm barreling towards D.C., and forecasters tossing around predictions like "3 to 4 inches an hour," I'd like to say something to Winter. I'm not sure that something would be "hello," but Mark Svenvold's poem is a bit more open-minded than I am at this point.
(True story: yesterday, when I called a feed supply store on the rumor that they had snow shovels in stock, the clerk said: "No, but we have pitchforks." Bwhahaha! Then again, maybe she was serious. Can one hold off a blizzard by threatening it with something stabby?)
by Mark Svenvold
Hello Winter, hello flanneled
blanket of clouds, clouds
fueled by more clouds, hello again.
off to the west, that sliver
of sunset, rust-colored
and gone too soon.
And night (I admit to a short memory)
you climb back in with chilly fingers
and clocks, and there is no refusal:
ice cracks the water main, the garden hose
stiffens, the bladed leaves of the rhododendron
shine in the fog of a huge moon.
the rest is here
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Great Kid Books