Winter!

Free for use under the Pixabay Content license. Image credit: Mollyroselee

What is your favorite type of weather?

I don’t care that I’m in the minority. Give me chilly winds and icy skies. Give me naked trees reaching their gnarled limbs in every direction. Give me the nostalgia of snow days and canceled classes, empty hours with nothing of import to fill them with. Those were simpler times. Maybe it’s because I associate winter with my childhood, and staying home and watching movies with my mom without the encumbrance of a “non-traditional instruction day” (really, tell me something technology hasn’t destroyed).

Summer is not my jam anyway. Too hot, especially in the South. Good God, you can’t take your clothes off fast enough in air so hot and sticky just breathing is an insurmountable chore. I mean, it has its perks, especially when you’re a kid. Summer vacation, no school, you know the drill. Swimming and traveling and running in the grass under the hot sun until your pants and shirt are stained with chlorophyll and your skin is pink with sunburn (or in my delicate case, sun poisoning).

Free for use under the Pixabay Content license. Image credit: DominikRh

Swimming and traveling and running in the grass under the hot sun until your pants and shirt are stained with chlorophyll and your skin is pink with sunburn (or in my delicate case, sun poisoning).

Added is the fact that summer is bittersweet because you know it will never last. The days will grow shorter and colder. The leaves will turn and you’ll return to school and the hustle and bustle of life. Winter Is Coming, indeed.

But in winter, there is always hope. Hope that you can’t find in summer, which is this…spring is on its way.

Free for use under the Pixabay Content license. Image credit: jplenio

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Poem for the Day: October 20th, 2021

the tenderness of autumn by Madisen Kuhn

i hold onto 
the way the air feels in october 
it brings out the best in me 
unlike the violating heat 
of august that fills the space between
the dirt and the heavens 
only a handful of moons prior to 
the golden treetops and the 
ritualistic pumpkin and maple 
that stir our hearts and reveal 
our need for stupid, cheery things 

the earth is falling asleep 
lying its head to rest 
in the fading foliage on the ground 
folding up the day into smaller 
and smaller glimpses of light 
but here i am
bathing in the soft wind 
here i am 
grinning in a grey sweater 
here i am 
waking up

Poem for the Day: October 17th, 2021

Signs by Larry Levis

All night I dreamed of my home,
of the roads that are so long
and straight they die in the middle—
among the spines of elderly weeds
on either side, among the dead cats,
the ants who are all eyes, the suitcase
thrown open, sprouting failures.

   2.
And this evening in the garden
I find the winter
inside a snail shell, rigid and
cool, a little stubborn temple,
its one visitor gone.

   3.
If there were messages or signs,
I might hear now a voice tell me
to walk forever, to ask
the mold for pardon, and one
by one I would hear out my sins,
hear they are not important—that I am
part of this rain
drumming its long fingers, and
of the roadside stone refusing
to blink, and of the coyote
nailed to the fence with its
long grin.

And when there are no messages
the dead lie still—
their hands crossed so strangely
like knives and forks after supper.

   4.
I stay up late listening.
My feet tap the floor,
they begin a tiny dance
which will outlive me.
They turn away from this poem.
It is almost Spring.

The Selected Levis is available to purchase wherever books are sold.