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| Art by Margaret Scott. |
If winter is just a mood
I can almost feel
this dried-up half-life
erupting from the ground...
If winter is just a time
between times,
there must be something
I've misunderstood.
If winter is more or less
than gloom,
one bird hunting food
without a sound,
How does it explain
this blue-green summer
we profess,
caught snowbound in a room?
Kay Weeks
c. 1972
How do we stand vis-à-vis the snow, the rain, a sunny or cloudy day is--in my view--the sum total of how we feel, first, about ourselves; about current ambient Other; and a lazy addition and/or subtraction of the two, in the context of what is going on in the world...planetary energy...I don't know. Do you?
In this poem, of course, I am relating the weather to a warm relationship that has suddenly gone cold in a room, conversationally and on a deeper level. What's left when you can't talk? The silence of alone. It is ultimately enough. I look at clouds.
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| They look like Angel fish. 2008. |
1 comment:
Kay...once again you are spurring my brain into action. Reading and rereading your poem I began to substitute death for winter and life for summer. To me this was about life and death. Summer and winter we have no choice. We can choose life or death. If we choose to end a relationship rather than forgive, we choose death. If we swallow pride and reconcile, we choose life.
Harve in Hanoi
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