Tag Archives: cold

An achy night

My fingers ache
from the cold
and for those
who cannot come in
from the cold.

My heart aches for family, friends
and people I have not met, will never meet,
who heavy loads bear:
illness and sorrow
grief, pain and worry.

My soul aches for God’s children
in this city and around the world
who endure violence,
overt or structured
this day, every day.

I ache.

And I wonder,
is there a balm?

7 January 2014
Shire Near the Hudson

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Again

Again
in the night, the fire went out.
Devoid of pity, winter
invaded the room,
assaulted my body –
my thin blanket offered little resistance.
Cold chews my knuckles,
gnaws my knees.
The weak sun forces
pale shafts of light,
but no warmth,
through the dirty window.
I faintly see my breath
as I turn my head
to gaze on gray-black ash
within the fireplace.
For a moment, I ponder:
stay put, let go, give up
Then their faces rise before me
laughing, loving faces,
gone forever yet
somehow with me always.
And for their sake,
and perhaps for my own,
I stretch my painful limbs
and force myself from the bed
to shuffle stiffly across the floor,
light the fire,
begin another day,
again.

3 December 2012
SW 208
MDW – SDF

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Sleep’s refuge

Like a clutter of spiders,
the cold crept over him,
probing old wounds,
prodding old pains.

He stirred; but half-awake
he searched the bed.
Touching nothing,
finding no one,
he remembered, shivered,
pulled the cover tighter,
and sought again
sleep’s refuge.

18 September 2012
Shire on the Hudson

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Shelter in the storm

Time and again, I would return to the Shire to find that the electricity had gone out. The clocks showed me that. Power seemed somewhat fragile.

Yet two years in a row, when snow and ice sent Louisville into a deep freeze, the Shire provided shelter in the storm for me and served as a warm place of refuge for friends stranded in the city, for friends whose homes, as had many in other parts of the city, had lost power.

See you along the Trail.

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Cold night in Wooster town

The damp cold seeps
into his bones,
makes muscles ache,
and sinews moan,
Stirred by the pain,
but half awake,
he reaches out
across the grate,
hunting warmth and
seeking comfort.
Finding no one,
he sighs deeply,
shivers once, twice,
then tightly curls
into a ball,
pulls closer the
tattered blanket,
and tries to find
sleep yet once more.

1 October 2011
Wooster, Ohio

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