Morning Poem #2, January 30, 2020

Why does the snow capture me so?

These first flakes, few and far between

Dropping from heaven

Must be a sign


Do I dream of lighted hearths

And the return of those

Whose chairs have been empty

Now these many years?

Their boots, just the sizes we remember

Drying on the mat by the door


Time stopped

Supper simmering on the stove

And we sing the old songs

The ones we all knew.

copyright 2020

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2 Responses to Morning Poem #2, January 30, 2020

  1. good to have the poet laureate of shelton college back.

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