A poem I wrote a few years ago about the beginning of winter

[Prisoner_Number_Six]

So I'll never be Poet Laureate. I found it in an old manuscript I hadn't read for a while. Take it for what it is- a young man's meditation upon the changing season.

Hope you enjoy it!
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The Wintering

It's cold outside but here we sit,
feet up before the hissing heater,
genuflecting at the alter of the
changing seasons and ruminating upon
the changing times.

And in the sleepy Wintering
we nod and contemplate such things
as frozen toes, chill blizzard-winds,
and stocking up on food.

The cold air burns our nostrils
as we scent the days to come--
It's clear we won't be sitting
on the porch much more 'til spring.
It's darkened early and will be cold
throughout the empty night.

Besides, all the pretty, falling
autumn leaves are gone....

© 2014 Steven A. Hessler
All Rights Reserved

[NanceGreggs]

1. This is actually quite lovely.

The line "And in the sleepy Wintering" particularly hits home with me.

I am one of those rare people who loves the winter. And I think of it as a time of a kind of slumber, cozy and comfortable under blankets of snow, when people fall sleepily into the embrace of each other's warmth.

Well done.

[Rhiannon12866]

2. K&R from snowy New York...

Very well expressed. I need help accepting that winter is actually here now...

[orleans]

3. very nice. i love autumn & winter poems/writing

one of the best compliments i ever had from one of my poems:

a national magazine had bought two of my poems back in the 1980s and over fifteen years later i googled a line from one of them (just for fun) and found it! with it attributed to me! it was on the top of a woman's myspace page! someone i never met. (this was before facebook was around or took off.) i was so touched--knowing she had saved it all those years and then loved it that much to want to use it and even kept my name attached to it. i printed the page & put it into safekeeping in a box where i keep special mementos. i doubt she will ever know what a tremendous compliment she paid to me.

maybe, down the road, you will find your poem again, hopefully still attributed to you, and on display by someone who loved it so much.