An Old Life

Snow fell in the night.
At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish
mounded softness where
the Honda was. Cat fed and coffee made,
I broomed snow off the car
and drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart
before Amy opened
to yank my Globe out of the bundle.
Back, I set my cup of coffee
beside Jane, still half-asleep,
murmuring stuporous
thanks in the aquamarine morning.
Then I sat in my blue chair
with blueberry bagels and strong
black coffee reading news,
the obits, the comics, and the sports.
Carrying my cup twenty feet,
I sat myself at the desk
for this day's lifelong
engagement with the one task and desire.

by Donald Hall

Other poems of HALL (21)

Comments (11)

I always feel like I am free like a bird in the sky after reading your poems. Your poems are gift to this site. 10 marks
He speaks to the writer in us- we have our routine, it prepares us for the retreat to the desk and the task before us- writing that poem, that short story, that novel. Absolutely nailed us whether we follow his routine or one uniquely our own!
It's a wonderful picture, how he only needs travel, coffee cup in hand, a short distance to his life's calling; each day another segment of the monument to living. His wife, Jane Kenyon, was a fantastic poet also.
Wonderful account of the cores of the day narrated beautifully. Thanks for sharing.10 points.
Desire! ! Some fell in the night. Nice work.
See More