Poetry on a Winter Evening

I came home last night, later than expected from a meeting, and looked through the mail. I had ordered a poetry book compiled by Caroline Kennedy, and I knew that the big, fat, padded envelope I was holding had to be that book.

I walked the dogs, put away my meeting stuff, went upstairs and curled up to enjoy the book.

I wouldn’t say I love poetry; I’m just interested in it, mainly to discover other people’s ways of using language in expressive and inventive ways. For new poetry, I read “Poetry” magazine (because I can get it in Braille), and I enjoy the “Poet’s Choice” column of Robert Pinsky in the “Washington Post Book World”.

For older poetry, I can look into some of the other Braille magazines I read.

This book was all “classic” poetry, in that there were lots of poems about nature that sprang out of the pastoral sense of the word as interpretted from the seventeenth to the very early twentieth centuries.

The wind was pretty fierce last night. Our summer bell was ringing constantly, probably complaining that it wasn’t summer anymore and it wanted to come in out of the cold.

I love the snug feeling being in your house on a windy night has, and this was heightened by the poetry. The rhyme, the rhythm, and many familiar lines (“Who has seen the wind …”, or “Whose woods these are …” to name just two). Needless to say, after awhile, I was feeling pretty cozy indeed.

I’ve always loved Robert Frost, probably because his poetry touches that part of me that longs to return to the goat farm and has lots of fond memories there. I think that, if I could find a Braille edition of his complete poems, I’d be a very contented reader for quite a few winter nights.

Poetry, and my life, have moved on from those days of morning milking, putting does out to pasture, and storing up hay for the winter. Life is full of twists and turns, and I certainly can see myself returning to goatkeeping one day after long adventures in music.

For now, with the wind dying down and a clear, deep chill settling over our house, I’ll turn the page and be at peace with where I am now and wherever I’m going tomorrow.

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood …”

Explore posts in the same categories: Reading

2 Comments on “Poetry on a Winter Evening”

  1. Yumi Says:

    I only know one Robert Frost poem. It was used for the movie, “The Outsiders.”

    I like Rumi, Pablo Neruda, and Japanese poetry. My old boyfriend used to read poems in Arabic and translated for me. It was almost like everyday ritual, and it was something that I missed when we broke up.

    In some subway cars in NYC, there are some poetry ads (maybe sponsored by the NY Times? ) and I enjoy reading them. It changes the tone of my state of being. I wonder how many people actually read it.

  2. halfnotes Says:


    I don’t know if they’re sponsored in NYC, but I know that in the Washington, DC, area, they have a contest and whoever wins gets their poetry printed on the sides of city buses for three months. I think that’s a pretty cool and inventive way to encourage people to both read and write poetry.

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