This Winter Worse than Most

by Madelyne Camrud

Listen Online

At night I awaken and listen
to the house creak, its boards sharpening

in the cold. Days we stay inside,
looking out the window,

and wonder at a world so deep
into temperature. A nuthatch

tweaks thistle seed from a feeder
suction-cupped to the pane.

In moments like this spent close to glass,
how understandable my life is,

inside the heavy ribs of my navy sweater.
I watch the small bird rise

and light on a high branch.


Sposed to be a worse winter than most, indeed! Good thing there are winter-warmnesses stored up in the memory box to keep it winter-toasty:

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winter stews and goodnatured company that ate despite the mysterious sourness.
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accumulation of things that don’t belong to me; reminder things
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espresso machine, well loved.
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melty fency mallows in the afternoon, drinkdrankdrunken with hot chocolate office pod buddies.

 


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