In the midst of cold,
past the fringes of darkness,
is this place of fire
where we huddle
at the edge of warmth
to relieve our chill
and regard each other’s faces
in the glow,
where we learn stories
of the shadows
and meet our own
darkness.
Loneliness is, perhaps,
believing there is no room
for us in the circle.
Belonging is knowing
every one of us
is the flame.
Posts Tagged ‘cold’
In the Bleak Midwinter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged belonging, cold, fire, loneliness, warmth on December 3, 2025| 6 Comments »
One After the Sauna
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged angel, cold, sauna, snow, sound on January 11, 2024| 13 Comments »
in deep, new snow
a naked angel makes wings—
her song, how it soars
Wilding
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, Corinne Platt, mountains, presence, swimming on August 5, 2023| 2 Comments »
for Corinne
It is always near-freezing,
this high alpine lake where
we slide into oddly blue water,
and bare strangled sounds
tear from our throats
as if our own wildness
is shredding through
manicured versions of self.
I crave it, this scraping away
of everything that isn’t
limb-thrash and lung-gasp
and skin-scream and heart-bang
and wild uncontrollable breathing,
crave the tingling after,
the feral laughter, the way
the world slips more deeply into us
when we dare to slip
more deeply into the world.
This Season
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bird, cold, grief, song, winter on January 17, 2022| 8 Comments »
It is true, every day
brings a sadness—
sometimes like a blizzard,
sometimes like sleet,
sometimes like a clear morning
of fifteen below,
but I do not wish any of it away.
On the coldest mornings here,
the birds that choose to stay
fluff up their feathers
to trap in the chill air,
warming it with their own bodies
until it becomes their insulation.
This is, perhaps, how it is with grief—
by holding it close,
it transforms from something
that would hurt me
to something I infuse
with my own being,
thus becoming something
that allows me to survive.
It would be wrong
to say I like it. But I hear
how, with every day,
it is teaching me
a new way to sing.
Porphyry Basin
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, hiking, skinny dipping on June 27, 2021| 2 Comments »
so oh slippery flesh song
of skinny oh dipping
into oh icy clear
of blue oh in the high
alpine lake, oh and oh
how the shiver oh
breath oh is oh
such wild thrill in the oh
can you oh even dream
of how good it is oh
to be oh just a few
more oh seconds
held by oh liquid snow
so oh yes so only
right oh here
and so oh yes so very
oh nakedly
yes oh alive
Chickadee, dee, dee in Three
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bird, chickadee, cold, importance, priorities, three word lines on February 4, 2020| Leave a Comment »
And so, although
there’s so much
work to do,
I step outside
and let February
have its way
with me—cold,
dusted with snow.
Hard to believe
anything can grow.
But singing high
in cottonwood trees
are the chickadees.
It’s not hard
to think, This
is the most
important thing I
can do today.
I think it
until I forget
to think it,
until I am
simply standing there
in winter air
pledging my ears
to the sound
of the birds—
such a simple
song. Funny no
part of me
longs for other
work. Funny how
soon it becomes
everything.
One Sitting on the Porch
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, forgiveness, melting, poem, poetry on December 23, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One in Winter
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, heart, poem, poetry, river on December 9, 2017| Leave a Comment »
when cold enough
the river becomes its own obstacle—
oh heart, stay warm, stay warm
You Know How Frost Goes
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged attention, cold, frost, neglect, poem, poetry, relationships on September 25, 2017| Leave a Comment »
I return to find the basil dead,
wilted and browned, dull limp flags.
And the cosmos, bent and spent
and dead. And the beans, dead.
And the marigolds, still brilliant,
but the forked tongues of their leaves
say they are dead. What a difference
one night of cold can make, how
no matter how warm the season has been,
it irrevocably changes things.
It doesn’t matter I knew it would happen
eventually. The petunias fall all over themselves
in profuse bloom as if to say, it’s okay,
not all is lost, but it’s enough to make a woman
decide to pay attention, to be warm
in every garden she enters.
Some blooms defy the seasons.
There’s so much beauty at stake.
Five Cents
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, generosity, parenting, poem, poetry, warmth on February 4, 2017| 2 Comments »
Finding by chance a buffalo nickel
my son decides to spend his fortune
on a girl he’s never met
who woke one morning
with cancer in her marrow—
he tells me he’s thinking
a lot about death,
and he’s scared,
and I tell him yes,
it’s scary.
Later, I look out the window,
and though there’s not a hint
of leaves on the trees outside,
I feel some certainty
about green and summer,
and I’m amazed at how
just when we think the world
could not get any colder,
we are reminded what even
a tiny bit of warmth can do.
This Afternoon, I Walk East
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, heart, love, poem, poetry on October 23, 2015| 1 Comment »
How good the cold air
feels on the face
after a morning inside.
I try to tell myself
it could work this way
with the heart, too—
a little winter
when there’s been
so much heat—
but the heart does
not believe me
and zips up its coat.
Ice on the Water And
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, love, paradox, poem, poetry on January 15, 2015| 2 Comments »
ten below
and yet it unfurls so greenly
this new leaf of love
Yes, Everything
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, connection, ice skating, nature, poem, poetry, warmth on January 4, 2015| 5 Comments »
When we tug at a single thing in nature, we find it attached to the rest of the world.
—John Muir
and so when I tug at the blue green ice
that marbles the top of the river, it’s no
surprise to find it connected to those mornings
when I was a girl and the lake was frozen
and I could skate all the way to the middle,
could follow the cracks and skate so far
I could hardly see my small yellow house.
I would lay down, face to the ice, and feel
the way the cold rose up to sting my check,
feel the chill seep through my winter clothes.
I would roll over and stare at the white sky
and wave my arms and legs in the angel pattern,
though there was no snow. And I’d stay there
a long, long time. In this way, I learned
it is possible to be warm even held by the cold,
and tugging at this, it is no surprise
to find it connects to everything.
Just for a Moment
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, comfort, hurt, poem, poetry on February 23, 2013| 3 Comments »
after reading up into the silence the green by e.e. cummings
Cold is the
(hold me)
wind and
sharp is
the barb
exposed
and
(hold me)
sour are
the words
that flew,
and slow
(hold me)
is the ache
to leave.
It’s cold
love
and though
it won’t
change anything
it would
feel good
(the dark
is near)
if you’d
just
for a
moment
(hear
the train?)
hold me.
Uplifting
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, light, love, poem, poetry, spectrum, winter on January 15, 2013| 2 Comments »
Twenty below
this morning
and I gasp
at the air,
part shock
and part delight
in the pure cold chill of it.
And though the sun
is barely warm
on the cheek
it is light
and getting lighter—
and that is just
the light we see.
There is more,
they say,
and I feel it,
some vaster spectrum,
they way I feel
the love I cannot
see, how it blesses me
like the sun,
blesses me
even like
the cold.
Down by the Riverside Haiku
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, haiku, hands, love, poem on December 22, 2012| 3 Comments »
so cold I could al-
most forget about your hands—
not quite.
December 2
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, poem, poetry, winter on December 2, 2012| 4 Comments »
Even the grass
seems to disbelieve
the calendar, greening
around the porch.
And the fruit fly
in the window.
And the sun,
though low,
floods the rooms,
the heart.
As if winter
has forgotten us.
I feel myself
softening.
As if the cold
will never come.
Pep Talk in June
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, jumping in, parenting, poem, poetry, smile, swimming on June 7, 2012| 4 Comments »
If one windy day
you find yourself
beside the pool
with your three-
year-old girl,
resist the urge
to stay dry. She
will laugh at the way
you pull her through
the blue chlorinated
water with such real
joy that it will catch
in you so wholly that even
strangers in the grass
watching you play
will comment to you
on how sweet that you,
like your daughter,
delight in being wet. Someday
you will forget the chill—
the body cannot
pull the back the memory
of cold anymore than it
can bring back the red
pain of labor.
But her smile, the memory
of that as it flashes
above the refracting light,
it will forever bring a smile
to your lips, a real smile,
no matter how
tired you are,
how old and dry.
Take Five
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cold, fall in love with the world, look up, opening, poem, solstice, truth on December 22, 2011| 3 Comments »
the truth
enters
the room
like a cold
cold breeze—
sometimes
we’re ready
for a break
from the heat,
sometimes
it’s just
so
cold
*
it’s not
as if we
can make ourselves
fall in love
with the world,
but I’ve noticed
that when
I look up
it’s more
likely
*
it is
after all
the longest night
and even though
tomorrow
it’s only one
more minute
of light
it is one
more
minute
*
I have been praying
for openings,
and behind
every door
that opens
another door
*
with my one
minute more
I don’t know
what I’ll do—
but I hope
I remember
to
look
up