Bookends – A Winter Poem

“BOOKENDS” – by Ray Fowler

On frosty winter mornings when I rise
And venture forth to meet the stillborn dawn,
The prickly air pokes sharply at the flesh
And sweeps the dust of slumber from my eyes.

When winter falls with force upon my home
And icy fists rap sharp on window panes,
I draw my blanket snug about my heart
And let the warmth of sleep invade my bones.

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  1. Scott Lord says:

    Had to…science, you know.

    The Puritans had a wintry sense of God the Prime Mover- our Church came along in 1802 so it’s covenant isn’t as bleak and dreadful .

    Thank you for the poem-Scott Lord

Trackbacks / Pingbacks

  1. A Wintry Sonnet - Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) at Ray Fowler .org

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