Comfort Food Weather
comfort food weather
morning simpers above the trees
pallid almost white
the golden roar of summer
of warmer times has turned away
migrated to the bottom of the world
earth is spare, lean and hard with frost
I run to the wood stove it perks merrily
bright coals hungry for fresh fuel
I dress hurriedly chills chasing across my back.
these are vivid, stark days
filled with complete wakefulness.
clear eyes shed watery tears and
lungs gasp at cold airs intrusion.
frozen logs chime as they stack
beech, ash, maple and oak.
I move toward the cottage
arms filled with the days coziness.
dinner, soon to be cooked.
I pass the garden daubed in various browns,
not one echo of her former glory.
yet I see spring rising up
from the still visible mounds
where bulbs lay in wait.
a winter witch glides across the sky
dragging grey black snow clouds
in her frigid wake;
this is the day for stew
and loaves of fresh baked soda bread.
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