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.

~Ruth Stone






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