To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Watching Winter Watching Me In scruffy slippers, in sub-zero season, I scuttle toward the marshmallowed woodpile; My bathrobe flirts shamelessly with the icy wind, and cunning creatures watch from their hiding places in plain sight. They stand so still that even the flick of a furry ear will not give them away. Only the tuxedoed magpie will venture close to my hand as I select a wedge of wood that is not frozen to next spring. Only he will speak to me in scolding tones that seem to say I owe him something. And not only I, but the cat and the dog and the horses owe him something as well. It is his due, he chatters, and he will not be denied. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2014-12-23 11:11:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Marcia, How delightful this read is. Its one of those cliché things, that “I don’t know you from adam” but after this I’d like to sit and share a cup of coffee with you.
The image, of slippers and robe on a cold morning is scrumptious! The snow crusted wood pile description, “marshmellowed” is perfect.
Snuggling on a cold morning is always a nice diversion, but your innocent bathrobe scene and the wind- is somehow sexy as all get out, particularly with the voyeur quality of those watching the entire event (animals or not). The fact that they are there, adds another dimension to the piece.
The discourse, spoken or not, between magpie and woman strikes a comical pose for the entire effort. Maybe the scolding was for the robe thing, who knows!
The setting is colorful and alive. This is a perfect winter morning. I wish I’d had time for this earlier, it would have given life a sweet push down the road.