Friday, November 12, 2010

Poetry: Sleet

Sleet

Ice falls.
wind whipped,
clicking,
sleet,
cutting in the dark,
tapping
on windows,
angry
and cold.
Even the sound
chills,
a reminder
that in the world
we must tend
our fires
within,
diligently.

===========

No reading aloud today - I have a madhouse at work going on and practically no time extra.

The picture was taken just down the road from my home in West Pawlet. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

4 comments:

willow said...

Okay, you're off the hook, just this once. We've grown accustomed to your voice.

Derrick said...

Hopefully, you didn't take the photo just the other day!

Tom Atkins said...

No Derrick, that one was taken last winter. But, we did get two inches of sleet Monday. That's sleet, not snow, and yes, that was the inspiration for this poem.

The lady in Red said...

Dear Tom, very nice poem, I loved the picture. It is peaceful. As always it is a blessing to read your poems before going to bed.

Thanks a lot for sharing,
Rosana