Not a poem but I really love these words from Katherine May’s gorgeous book ‘Wintering:’ 🩵
'"When I started feeling the drag of winter, I began to treat myself like a favoured child: with kindness and love. I assumed my needs were reasonable and that my feelings were signals of something important. I kept myself well fed and made sure I was getting enough sleep. I …spent time doing things that soothed me. I asked myself: What is this winter all about? I asked myself: What change is coming?"
‘Like a favoured child’ is such a great suggestion isn’t it. Really brings home the point. Thank you. It’s been a long time since I read Wintering. Maybe due a re-read x
Thanks for sharing! 'Choices' felt closest to my heart here (and no, not because that's as far as I got down the article, any cheeky types). That sense of a sudden shift to see the value in the ordinary is at once mundane and everyday, while also being the most profound thing.
Not a poem but I really love these words from Katherine May’s gorgeous book ‘Wintering:’ 🩵
'"When I started feeling the drag of winter, I began to treat myself like a favoured child: with kindness and love. I assumed my needs were reasonable and that my feelings were signals of something important. I kept myself well fed and made sure I was getting enough sleep. I …spent time doing things that soothed me. I asked myself: What is this winter all about? I asked myself: What change is coming?"
‘Like a favoured child’ is such a great suggestion isn’t it. Really brings home the point. Thank you. It’s been a long time since I read Wintering. Maybe due a re-read x
I LOVE this book! Definitely helped me a lot get through the winter seasons
Desert Light in Winter
——
First, we bundle up like pros
when the mercury drops below forty,
our desert blood having thinned
to something closer to sunset light—
that same light that sets the mountains ablaze
each evening in impossible shades of rose and gold.
The winter sunrise arrives like a watercolor,
painting the clouds in layers of amber and violet,
while we clutch our coffee mugs with gloved hands,
watching our breath form halos in the dawn.
The cold makes the light sharper somehow,
as if the clarity of winter air
could slice the sky into ribbons of color.
But nothing prepares us for that January morning
when the snow clouds part at daybreak,
and the whole valley glows like an opal—
pearl-white ground reflecting coral-pink sky,
every Joshua tree wearing diamonds,
every saguaro crowned in crystalline light,
while we abandon our desert dignity,
dancing beneath the painted heavens.
Watch the great migration:
parents calling in "sick" to work,
children pressed against windows,
neighbors who never speak
now gathering in driveways at dusk,
when the setting sun turns snow to rose quartz
and sets each flake afire with dying light.
The mountains wear their sunset colors
like royal robes: purple, amber, crimson,
their snowy peaks holding the last rays
long after the valley has dimmed to blue.
We stand in our yards, necks craned back,
trying to catch snowflakes that sparkle
like falling stars in the fading light.
Tomorrow, the sun will return to rule,
the snow will retreat to memory,
but for now, we are witnesses
to this rare convergence of elements—
desert light and winter snow,
painting the sky in watercolors
while we remember how to wonder,
how to welcome the impossible,
how to believe in magic
falling softly from a painted sky.
I am literally stood there with you, every piece of that sky. Glorious. Loved this x
Loved reading this. It’s gorgeous ❄️
Choices, it’s heartbreaking and I so good. Thanks for sharing Nelly!
It really is. I could read it over and over!
I really loved the last one! It captures exactly how I feel walking the streets on snowy winter nights
Loving these <3 embracing winter [today.. ask me tomorrow hehe]
The classic one I always think of, only because he is my best friend's favorite poet:
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
-
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
-
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
-
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
--
--
However, if you want something slightly off the nose, this is another favorite winter poem: Persimmons by Li-Young Lee. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43011/persimmons
Persimmon season is usually from October to January, depending on the variety, it is usually considered a winter fruit.
Beautiful beautiful poetry Makeila, thank you for taking the time to share it x
Thanks for sharing! 'Choices' felt closest to my heart here (and no, not because that's as far as I got down the article, any cheeky types). That sense of a sudden shift to see the value in the ordinary is at once mundane and everyday, while also being the most profound thing.
So many stanzas in a sestina, it felt … cumbersome. I will try at some point though.
Yes! I hope to try it when my head clears a little from December :)