under the weather
Somehow, despite the fact that I’ve barely left my house in the last 10 days, due to the tiny stitches I had just under my nose after I had a “spot” removed, I have managed to catch a cold. I think it may be more accurate to say that the cold has caught me.
And so, here I am, on the couch in the morning, reading poetry.
If my throat didn’t hurt so much, it would be a perfect day.
Just before Christmas, I stumbled across a poet I had never read before, Ruth Stone. My daughter bought me her book, What Love Comes To as a gift.
Oh my. Yesterday, I said that I want to live my life inside a poem.
Today, I’m going to live my life inside this book.
The Long Chill
The blankets scream to be folded.
After all it’s almost noon;
the sun’s pale powder glittering
and with no clear demarcation,
and too chill; as if when
the mammoths, strolling on the steppes
and consorting, paused, as usual,
as the first light dust of snow began to fall.