the core of January

January 29, 2013 § 3 Comments

with the clearing of
the path
finished,
I lean the shovel against
the side of the shed
and stand for
a minute in
wind relentless
and flesh out a memory

trying to rework it
into a vision,
one warm enough
to melt the snow
around my boots
and the snow
on my shoulders
and the small ice dams
around my eyes

I strain to see through
frost that always seems
at its heaviest around
the core of January
when certain frigid
realizations float like
bergs on the surface
of short hard days

when
I have no control over
the shakes, when
I can’t seem to get my hands
to move in
logical patterns
and thoughts of endless winter
occupy a sizable amount time

but there is a load of wood
cradled in my aching arms
as I head for
a door that really
is closer than
it seems
and somewhere
there is a part of my history
moving through this world

hopefully in comfort
hopefully full in a life
hopefully quiet of mind
and steady of heart
and I pray
in possession of an
inner fire to
melt any fears
that threaten to freeze
out the dreams
that keep one
forging ahead

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

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