It's really cold. Everybody's talking about it.
Kerry, soul-sister from the north country of Vermont, wrote 14 below up here.
Can that be right?
Bill, my brother who lives in the wilds of Ontario
[see Lion's Head]
sent an email :
I receive this poem every winter and every winter I love re-reading it. It's a beautiful poem and very well written:
All this cold has me thinking of the mouse who was frozen to the edge of our garbage can the other night.
scream scream at this discovery, run run from can silly silly sad sad
Poor little guy trying to climb inside to get warm or find a nibble to eat? Almost to the mountain top, only to perish?
And being a life-long follower of
all things Beatrix Potter,
I couldn't help thinking,
if only mr. mousey
was wearing a down vest
and wool scarf
and a red and white striped winter cap.
But besides frozen pipes and ponds, and mice, besides that and other things that happen across my mind during the course of a day or a week,
here's what I've been paying attention to lately
the really lovely light
when I keep my eye on that light
and it's everywhere
i feel lighter in every way.