O at the Edges

Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.

I Live in My Winter

Posted on August 22, 2022 by robert okaji

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.

7 thoughts on “I Live in My Winter”

extraordinarysunshineweaver on August 22, 2022 at 10:03 am said:

Your poetry never fails to please, Robert!

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- robert okaji on August 22, 2022 at 3:20 pm said:
  
  Thank you, Barbara!
  
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Cate on August 22, 2022 at 12:33 pm said:

This has a settled quality about it that feels pleasing and restful in the reading, Bob.

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- robert okaji on August 22, 2022 at 3:21 pm said:
  
  Even after three years I’m still unfamiliar with this place. But I find it peaceful.
  
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Liz Gauffreau on August 22, 2022 at 5:38 pm said:

I was moved by your poem.

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- robert okaji on August 24, 2022 at 9:52 am said:
  
  Thanks, Liz. Starting a new life at my age is interesting, to say the least, but doing it for the right reasons and with the right person has made it almost easy.
  
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  - Liz Gauffreau on August 24, 2022 at 6:00 pm said:
    
    You’re welcome, Bob.
    
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