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.