22 Below This Morning But Rising
22 Below This Morning But Rising
Sun as bright as ice,
we think it must be nice.
but cold
like a bell dome,
clamps down,
we the clappers dangling
by breaths like wires wrangling
so many layers wrapped
that we trek loggily
glasses so foggily
that we can’t see through
to a view anyway
only the white and blue
of a planet that this clear day makes clear
wasn’t truly made
for our
whatever.
So,
trying to get back faster
than ever,
we find–
*********************
Another little ditty for Magaly Guerrero’s prompt on Real Toads about not trusting the cannibal. It was 22 below this morning but this pic is from last year (though similar frost appeared this morning –I just didn’t get a pic.) This has been edited slightly since first posting.
Explore posts in the same categories: poetryTags: dont trust that bright sun poem, frosty poem, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com, manicddaily, world just might not be made for our whatever poem
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ManicDDaily 
February 14, 2016 at 6:54 pm
This one sinks all the way into my bones. The sun was bright today, so very bright… and my bedroom is surrounded by huge windows. It was so warm inside that I had to just walk out to the terrace in my bathrobe… I nearly froze! But it was sooo pretty.
February 14, 2016 at 7:06 pm
exactly! this was our day too.
February 14, 2016 at 7:34 pm
Your fifth stanza really says it for me…I agree and I don’t know how people function in this kind of cold long-term. It’s definitely a test of endurance. Love the ” we trek loggily/glasses so foggily” Me, too…we burn wood and I wear glasses also.
February 14, 2016 at 8:47 pm
Welcome to Climate Change, Ms. K. I predict that the trend, seasonal hot and cold swings, is to be worse, more extreme, than the year before. Really hard on wild life, about the hardest on Polar Bears.
My car thermometer hit 80F outside today. The guy ahead of me in church this morning was wearing shorts (and driving his Porsche-his wife wasn’t there, she was staying with a sick grandchild).
Anyway, I like it. ‘Weather not meant for humans.’
Your poem also reminded me of the old W. C. Fields movie, “The fatal glass of beer” where he comes in from the cold saying, “It ain’t fit out for man nor beast.” All the time Fields was shivering and shaking off the snow.
BTW, when I moved to Houston I left my snow shovel in New Hampshire. I had already left another in Nebraska when I moved to El Paso before New Hampshire.
..
February 15, 2016 at 8:35 am
The imagery is as delicate as the frost you illustrate it with, k–the dangling breaths, the sense of self suspended in a cold so profound it becomes an element like air or water, pulling, surrounding, changing…and of course, full of rich, if freezing, metaphor.
February 15, 2016 at 9:50 am
Sometimes our planet seems a hostile place indeed, though we are lulled by its variety and beauty.
February 15, 2016 at 2:45 pm
I say as my father once said… bless the hollowness of houses..
February 15, 2016 at 11:30 pm
The cold can be so beautiful, but then we step out and take that first, freezing breath… 🙂
February 16, 2016 at 6:15 pm
Good that you are able to use the cold for such good purposes! 🙂
Greetings from London.