Both of these are wonderful, but there is something about the second that just resonates. "Even the soul" wearing wet socks just says it.It is wet and raw here today, too.
I am pretty sick of the cold wet, too. I was looking forward to lots of snow. There's still hope. I like your water shots, though, and the reflections of the bare trees. The shining earth.
Thanks Laura and Jeanette! I would rather have snow any day than this slop!
Hi Nin, Mark Doty's blog led me here. It's great to read your lovely writing and to reflect on these images of weather and winter and over at your memorial to Jane Heyward to consider such a loving relationship. My experience of my mother seems more mixed but that's the way it goes I suppose. We all have different experiences of being mothered and of mothering. It's lovely to meet you.
Totally beautiful. This time the graphic matching of the trunks is a pure vertical ascent, no twisting or sidling-around. Could this mean a message, or perhaps a plea, is being directed upward?!Caught out in intense downpours a few nights back, wet socks, a relapse of the dread persistent January flu, so empathy, and sympathies, from here, Nin. Some people like to say This, too, will pass. But that usually just makes one fear that what comes next might just be worse.
P.S. Not to rub it in, but could this be considered a homeopathic cure for the sopping-socks syndrome?
I agree with Jeanette. I prefer your second poem. Brilliant.
The soul wearing wet socks is, for me, a useful image. I worry (a lot of people do, I think) about soul-sickness, which tends to lead straight to despair, i.e., the extreme end of things. I find the idea of there being a lesser degree of sickness, which can be alleviated or remedied by changing socks, valid and helpful. That being said, no views of my sock drawer will ever be published. It's a quiet morning here in Berwyn and should be a beautiful, mild day. Curtis
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