Covered in winter clouds
light rain falls on the valley,
dripping from bare trees
to the hard skin of concrete.
I count prayers in tens,
using my fingers for a rosary
as I look out over the rooftops
to smoke rising among
shrouded evergreens.
I remember my mother
bearing the burden long ago
seeing her happiness
from the warmth
of a woolen blanket
and my father’s smile.
We’re still together
though with different faces,
having dropped a few skins
in the journey across time.
The river, the cobblestones,
the cold air of January
are with me now,
as light rain falls
and daylight rises.
Reading of “Cold Air of January” with music by Coyote Oldman
Majestic and magical!
“…and in this pause there is joy.” Beautifully captured. I feel the cold air, the damp. I love the mood of the woolen blanket and your mother, and the smile of your father. I love this joy, today, to pause and be still. I am here.
Beautiful poem, Don. Those beautiful moments when we enter the stillness in our beings.
Lovely, woven generations.
Don, thank you. This makes me think of “The Irish Girl” poems.
So tender, Don!
Beautiful.
I relish and rejoice in the contentment inspired in this beautiful poem………..thank you!
Very nice, Don!
Beautiful
Pausing in this way the presence of those gone beyond make themselves known again
comforting on a winters day
When a poets words are shared to all, I imagine. How powerfully the response spreads as well, We are surrounded with the knowing.
Thank you. Bringing forth those moments
of prayer that lets more of what can bloom
in the moment, pause, come forth fully
like the rose.
Beautifull.