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Posts Tagged ‘cold’

This Afternoon, I Walk East

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , 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.

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Ice on the Water And

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on January 15, 2015| 2 Comments »

ten below
and yet it unfurls so greenly
this new leaf of love

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Yes, Everything

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , 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.

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Just for a Moment

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , 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.

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Uplifting

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , 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.

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Down by the Riverside Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 22, 2012| 3 Comments »

so cold I could al-
most forget about your hands—
not quite.

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December 2

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , 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.

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Pep Talk in June

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , 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.

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Take Five

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , 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

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