The thermometer reads -20°C
Just outside the door
I watch sunlight filter through.
Clear skies at such temperatures
Steam from my breath.
The dog still has all his energy
But my fingertips exposed
Rapidly induce the fear of frostbite
Tingling away in an odd sensation
One knows better than to ignore.
The trees cackle at the wind,
No leaves left to protect,
And snow crunches loudly under foot
As one trods across
The slippery, frozen ‘stead.
Tag: stead
Ode to a Perfectly Placed Bench to Enjoy Nature (day 1775)
About my way
A merry one I should say
I wondered to myself:
My dear sweet man
What have you done,
You’ve gone and walked yourself out.
So there I was
A bit confused
Wondering what I could do
To rest my weary legs a while
To recoup my troubled mind.
And all at once
You appeared to me
Like some magic: unleashed
And set free,
Which I took as queue
And found my rest
Upon your well worn stead.