Everyone woke up complaining...
It is fifty-eight degrees,
Damp,
And windy.
Everyone else is complaining,
But you--
You would have loved it.
When the leaves'
Little sugar-making machines
Shut down,
Well then they're on stage
Like a bunch of rotten little Camilles.
Oh but I can understand
The loss of something essential.
Not being a leaf,
I write poems.
Today it is fifty-eight degrees,
Damp,
And windy.
Everyone is complaining,
But you--
You would have loved it
And I--
I would have loved you,
And the chill, windy day
As well.
_______
Love despite the weather. So beautiful!
ReplyDeleteJust between you and me, (I'm whispering), so many poems posted on blogs are forgettable at best. This poem is remarkable. I'm going back to read it again.
ReplyDeleteI think 58 degrees is the perfect temperature to snuggle up.
ReplyDeletejust look at the colors....vibrant as you!
ReplyDeleteIf only it could get down to 58 degrees...I'd love it as well!!
ReplyDeleteA nostalgic piece. Thank you, Shay!
Now I want Vermont maple candy!
ReplyDelete58º is winter here.
ReplyDeleteHave I told you I don't really like poetry? Have I told you how much I love what you write?
And, not being a poet, I read you.
ReplyDeleteThere is NOTHING I like better than cold days, falling leaves and the occasional fire.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed the read
ReplyDeletehave a colourful day
cold, chilly and windy days were made for poets... have a beautiful day!
ReplyDeleteI suspect Love would hold true for -58 degrees. For me, certainly !
ReplyDeleteDitto what Mama Zen said...
ReplyDelete