Cold

January 19, 2014 § 2 Comments

It’s going to get cold tonight
according to the birds,
and the bits of frozen rain
beginning to fall.
And it often does this time of year.
But the cold tonight is somehow different
because my house is especially quiet
and my walls are especially thin,
but just for tonight.
The wind brings the cold and
I can hear it, the wind that is.
Better than usual because
I’m actually listening
and Saint Sebald is searching
for stillness, to no avail.
It’s not angry, or spiteful.
Nor jealous or guilt-ridden.
Simply powerful. A howling
that is much more triumphant
than tyranical.
A cold that speaks not of barren
tundras, shivering bodies,
but of an awakening. An urging.
Seize it. For the cold too, will pass.

Anomaly

January 12, 2014 § Leave a comment

Even though it is winter
I must be very clear,
I do not want to talk
about the weather, my dear.

Your complaints, they are often,
my patience is not,
so I implore you to please
not involve me in your thoughts.

Not that I don’t value
your researched opinions
of how the wind chafes your skin
of how you couldn’t find your mittens.

It’s just that I want to hear
something that’s more of a thrill
a topic that doesn’t involve
the weekend’s incoming chill.

Am I being too direct?
I’ve been so lately when I speak,
but it’s really not my fault,
you see it’s been raining all week.

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing entries tagged with weather at rosepoems.