Snow has been falling for half an hour
and already the garden is covered
with white. Slumped by the log store,
only the tip of an old sack is visible
as I approach, feet firmly in my wellies,
one sock creeping down to my toes.
The logs are frozen to the touch,
landing in the basket with a thud; I’m so
intent on piling logs to load the stove,
I almost miss him: a cock robin hops
along the log-store roof and stops,
head cocked, eye shining, red breast
aflame, reminding me of my duty to fill
the bird feeders – with the sweetest trill.
Kim M. Russell, 14th November 2019
Sumana says that, where she lives, winter is not cold, bleak and depressing but sunny and bright with a nip in the air; It’s a time for comfort and good food, celebrating the end of sweltering heat. In the UK, it can get bitterly cold and difficult for many people, especially those of us who live in the countryside, where there is little or no public transport. That’s when the best company is the wildlife that visits our garden. Sadly, the only photograph I have of a robin isn’t very clear, so I had to find one on the Internet.
For this week, Sumana asks us to write new winter poems, and gives us inspiration with quotes from Albert Camus and Lewis Carroll, as well as poems by Pablo Neruda, Wallace Stevens, Robert Hayden and Lisel Mueller.