Giving-In to Winter
Forego alarm, and coffee
as scheduled. Linger
under five quilts and flannel.
Sun’s up at seven, or later
if umbered clouds batten
the horizon. Sleep.
Maybe, tea at ten. Toast.
An egg, basted.
Break for lunch: humble soup
steamed and gleaming from a spoon.
A nap. A book.
Wine at four. Refill
at six. O gentle supper!
O macaroni and cheese!
Relinquish the chard,
the lonely carrot, the beet.
Sip warm milk, fragrant with almond.
Goodnight at eight, turn off the phone.
It’s a snore and a cuddle
for as many hours as it takes until spring.
T. Clear
---
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9 comments:
I eat 'humble soup' everyday at this time of year. However, we refer to is as 'nourishing soup'!
Your poem makes me want to say yes, yes, yes.
This is a hedonistic lullaby. I'll get to feeling like that during the week between Christmas and New Year's, but for now it's up with the alarm to drive through the tornado watch. thanks, very sweet, sp
Oh so hibernatory and wintery ... and so weird for us here in the excitement of spring! No soups, barbecues instead... I love the 'umbered clouds' and the basted egg.
I so love those last lines, as well as umbered clouds!
Love, C.
COZY!!!!
you have described my perfect winter day. Though I did find some rays of sunshine this morning and I got out into the yard for some leaf clean-up.
We are meant to slow down in winter....like all of nature!
Wow -- wonderful comments! Thank-you, every last one of you! (As you can probably guess, I didn't want to get up this morning....)
Oh, so indulgent! What a wonderful poem filled with the comforts of winter. Totally the opposite to us in the South Pacific at the moment! Thanks for another great post!
Cosy!! TH and I think alike!
I love this, T.
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