I Live in My Winter
Removed from the junipers’
fragrance, separated from
prickly pears gracing
the hill, limestone slabs
jutting from thin soil,
and smoke drifting from
a well laid fire on a cold
night. Old, today, I
call the clouds my
birthright, want only
to merge with them
and rain through
another black coffee
in this unfamiliar place,
this new home,
this welcome peace.
O at the Edges 
How beautiful!
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Thank you, Lucy.
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Your current locale far more suited to life’s winter analogy than Texas hill country … this poem tugs … an appeal to living where “just staying in” would be recognized as practical (as opposed to perceptions of laziness – Texans keep doing yard work all winter!)
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The weather is so different here, and I’ve enjoyed it. The weather now resembles That if Austin in December or January. 🙃
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Enjoy your birthday Robert! I love the evocative nature of this poem.
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Thank you, Susan. I am indeed enjoying the day!
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God, your writing is so beautiful. “I call the clouds my birthright”, I love the visceral effects this line has on me.
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Thank you for your kind comment! You have made my day.
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This is so profoundly beautiful, Robert. It touches me particularly at this moment, as I am days away from moving north… toward Winter.
Have you moved as well?
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Thank you, Nadia. Yes, I began a new life in Indiana about sixteen months ago. I enjoy the weather, the seasons, more than I expected. The peace is welcome, too.
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