January. John Updike’s crisp portrayal of winter’s quiet fold
by John Updike
The days are short
The sun a spark
Hung thin between
The dark and dark.
Fat snowy footsteps
Track the floor
And parkas pile up
Near the door.
The river is
A frozen place
Held still beneath
The trees' black lace
The sky is low.
The wind is gray.
The radiator
Purrs all day.
Today's Garden words were featured on the podcast:
Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
A nearly bare tree with thin, leafless branches is seen in the lower left corner against a blank, overcast sky.
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