Late November…

Late November
brought us the first real
winter weather of the year, and
my bones are not
rejoicing.

As a child, I played
outside
on winter days as much as my
dad would permit.
As a young man, I
enjoyed winter quite well.

My tolerance has
receded. I
endure the cold days now, the
winter wind
piercing me like a pointed stick pierces a
marshmallow.

by Thomas Wigington

13 responses

    • I welcome your encouragement, Ma-Li. I just scheduled a poem for tomorrow morning. I hope you enjoy it. I’ll do my best to make my blog a higher priority in the coming days and weeks. Also, I’ll get back to reading my friends poems.
      Thank you, my friend.

  1. Thomas, I sincerely hope you are still hanging in. The Spring is, begrudgingly perhaps, on her way. I wait for your re emergence. I should be loathe not to see the seedling green of your writing. How many quiet metaphors have you been brewing in the silent darkness of your retreat?

  2. Thomas,

    I’ve been waiting since early October for your late November and I shiver in unison to think of the cold. How much more then do I appreciate however, a poem like yours which warms my heart.

    • Thank you, Millie. I plan to post about once a week after the holidays. I’m enjoying your blog. Congratulations on your graduation.

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