Reflections on a Cold Day

This colder-than-average December finds me nesting, unwilling to face the chilly damp which awaits outside,
or the hordes of shoppers in the mall and grocery stores.

A warm fire and soft candlelight beckon me to stay home, and pot pie with turkey and veggies from the fridge sounds like a fine dinner. The gift of days like this -- gray, gloomy, and cold -- is leisure time to rediscover volumes of poetry, forgotten when brighter days tempt me outside.

Here's a perfect poem for cold weather, from an author I wouldn't have thought of as a poet:

LET IT SNOW

Snow in the sky,
Earth turning white --
A tree like a ghost
In the gathering night;
Low clouds above,
White world below --
Barn roofs and houses
Covered with snow.

Deep in his burrow
The 'possum is huddled,
Far in the bushes
Snowbirds are cuddled,
The creek in the morning
Coldly will gleam,

But I've got a fire,
A book and a dream.

Louis L'Amour, from "Smoke from This Altar" (Bantam Books, 1990)


Merry Christmas, all.
May your celebration be serene,
and sweetly filled with love.