A Poem Not About Winter

I sit down to write a poem that is not about
Winter. Why honor the season that sends me
indoors morning and evening?
But Winter will not be ignored, calling to
me, taunting me with gusty winds
howling through naked, entangled branches of
sleeping trees. Winter has driven
songbirds away. The laughter of children
can be heard only briefly, as bulky bundles
of little coats and hats waddle from
apartment to car and from car to apartment. Winter
has even transformed my neighbor's cat into
a homebody. I wish I could have written a poem
that is not about Winter.

by Thomas Wigington

16 responses

    • Thank you, Ax. I write every day and most of what I produce will never be seen. However, now and then I string some words together that I think are worth sharing. I post them here and enjoy the encouragement of other bloggers.

  1. I am no sportsperson, but if I had to pick sides I would not voluntarily choose winter’s team I have to admit. I am more than content to leave the cold to the winter sports fanatics.

    A poem which is satisfying in so many ways.

    Lovely.

  2. I love these lines:
    But Winter will not be ignored, calling to
    me, taunting me with gusty winds
    howling through naked, entangled branches of
    sleeping trees.
    🙂 Now THAT is a good bit about winter…

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