I started winterizing my house the night before the early winter storm that disabled CT for more than a week. I wrote a poem about it, feeling content after my work was done. The time that followed was somewhat more trying, but I’ll try to capture those emotions in a follow-up poem or two. Here’s the first.
Alfred, Part One
Winter crawls cold and earthen from the old forest,
ousting autumn’s sweet rot with the foreboding smell of snow.
I brace for it like the animals and my ancestors.
I stack wood, shutter up tight.
It’s long work: giving up summer, breathing deep,
but going to sleep happy, old fashioned.
Just to share, here’s a shot from my iPhone of what happened next.