I found this in GOOD POEMS, selected by Garrison Keillor. (Love that volume btw. It's a collection of poems Keillor has read on air, so by necessity the selections are accessible, musical, and image-driven.) Anyhoo! This seemed to be a good poem to share on an arctic day like this. When Kathy and I went on our walk at 5:30 this morning, we said how our world looked like a photo negative with bare lawns and streets skimmed with a fine drifted snow. I ask you. How beautiful is this world?
The Sixth of January
by David Budbill
The cat sits on the back of the sofa looking
out the window through the softly falling snow
at the last bit of gray light.
I can't say the sun is going down.
We haven't seen the sun for two months.
Who cares?
I am sitting in the blue chair listening to this stillness.
The only sound: the occasional gurgle of tea
coming out of the pot and into the cup.
How can this be?
Such calm, such peace, such solitude
in this world of woe.
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5 comments:
Lovely. I wish I could see the cold this way. I just see it as black, frostbitten fingers.
I love that "Who cares?" I care, but I like the nonchalance of that. I will aspire to it for as long as winter lasts.
Here's my winter poem:
Big Pharma Loves you
Sun down just after noon
Yes there is skiing
But the rest is doom and gloom
The end.
Love this! Garrison Keillor and I share a zip code. We are feet upon feet deep in snow. But there is tea and good books, and lots of time for writing, always something to make life good.
Love G-Keil
Love the Poem
Love the Blog
Love the Blogger
It might feel like its February forever, but Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early Spring for this year.
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