Midwinter
Already noon
and the bright midwinter sun
only now taking
the iron-hard edge
off the frost…
… so many tasks wait,
stealth weeds creeping
between bricks and shrubs,
the guttering that becomes
a waterfall in heavy rain
overflowing with leaves
as I watch the steam
curl from my coffee cup;
the sun peers in the bay
window, waits for the cat
to stir from my lap,
for my hand to turn
the last page in my book.
.
© Helen Lowe, 2011
.
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I seem to be in the mode for what I would call “occasional” poems—and definitely with a “domestic” theme, ie these are not poems about venturing out into the world; quite clearly the opposite, in fact, with Midwinter.
Once again, enjoy. And as always, feedback is welcome.
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