January by John Updike
The days are short,
The sun a spark
Hung thin between
The dark and dark.
Fat snowy footsteps
Track the floor.
Milk bottles burst
Outside the door.
The river is
A frozen place
Held still beneath
The trees of lace.
The sky is low.
The wind is gray
The radiator
Purrs all day.
Trackback URL for this post:
http://fimby.tougas.net/trackback/1277

Post new comment