January
January is here, with eyes that keenly glow,
A frost-mailed warrior
striding a shadowy steed of snow.
Excerpt from “The Masque of Months” by Edgar Fawcett
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.
January by John Updike
Winter Symphony by Paul Nordoff. Performed by the Robert Whitney-Louisville Orchestra.
Photo Credit: FreeImages.com/ Emanuele Sardi
If you respond to this article, please:
Make sure your comments are germane to the topic; be concise in your reply; demonstrate respect for people and ideas whether you agree or disagree with them; and limit yourself to one comment per article, unless the author of the article directly engages you in further conversation. Comments that meet these criteria are welcome on the Spectrum Website. Comments that fail to meet these criteria will be removed.