This is a winter poem. No doubt about that. It's reminiscent of Northern Illinois, where we spent several bitterly cold winters, but it was written during, and about, winter in Ohio ... or any place where temperatures sink unmercifully low, then struggle to rise, fall again, struggle again ... fall.
Little wonder that we find an unnamed couple sleeping under that "pale slice of lemon floating in thin clouds" ... "like two ... bears dreaming of spring."
This one was originally published in Southern Humanities Review, and is now part of a manuscript in search of a publisher.
TWO BELOW
Pale slice of lemon
floating in thin clouds
far above temperatures
fallen, clicking,
struggling to rise
where they were
sometime yesterday
before falling back
in the sullen darkness
that will cradle us
like two sleeping bears
dreaming of spring.
© 2006
***
Today's word:
unmercifullyAfterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Welcome back, Southernmush! It's always good to get back home, isn't it? I hope the posting of "Two Below" and the bitter cold you're having in Atlanta is only coincidence. I'll try to send some sunshine your way ... but you know how good I am at really influencing the weather. Stay snug ... and keep writing.
1 comment:
Hello Mr. Brimm,
I'm back from my trip. I wanted to come and thank you for sharing this poem. Today I have to tell you that it was the coldest day of the year in Atlanta, Georgia and it felt like Winter arrived early. I think that tomorrow Georgia may wake up to snow tomorrow I kid you not. Its been a cold cold cold cold cold cold day.
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