The Sixth of January
The cat sits on the back of the sofa looking
out the window through the softly falling snow
at the last bit of gray light.
I can't say the sun is going down.
We haven't seen the sun for two months.
I am sitting in the blue chair listening to this stillness.
The only sound: the occasional gurgle of tea
coming out of the pot and into the cup.
How can this be?
Such calm, such peace, such solitude
in this world of woe.
by David Budbill, from Moment to Moment: Poems of a Mountain Recluse (Copper Canyon Press)
This poem breathes out with the soul of the season. It's darkdarkdark here today, but with tea and solitude, who cares? I can see snow on the hills above the city.
Find out what else is shaking this first Poetry Friday of 2008 at A Year of Reading. Happy Winter.