SF (February,4,1937 / W. Columbia, WV, USA)

A Winter Day

I think you know that this is winter day.
This time last year woodsmoke blew us away.
Frost wrote the poem on tall panes of gray.

That was the morning of the yellow finch,
A dropp of sun upon a garden bench.
Light raised the bird's momentum, inch by inch.

You held your coffee cup up to the sky,
Promised as long as yellow birds could fly,
This anniversary would never die

I hold your words much prettier today.
Though where the bird went, who could ever say?
Memory locks all emptiness away.

User Rating: 4,9 / 5 ( 16 votes ) 32

Comments (32)

i used t his poem in my third grade winter poem contest i just wanted to say thanks I WON! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Winter has a particular day for us: 4th February. On that 'Winter Day' all of us want to stay closer to you, praising your verses so warm and lovely! Warmest wishes, Maria
The chill of winter melts away with the warmth of your words. Excellent work Sandra, best wishes, Andrew
Again, there is that shrp edge on you beautiful nature poems. This time I had to wait unitl the last line. It takes an extra abount of skill to do both in one poem. Several of my favorite poets deal with this duality of nature and humanity: Robert Frost, Robinson Jeffers and you. Tom
You should be regularly published in a West Virginia travel magazine because I never wanted to see the state until I started reading you. Blessings, Bill Grace
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