Vox Populi
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Robert Wrigley: Fifth Morning
After four nights below zero,
condensation on the window
above the bed’s iced paisley
in the sun, which unfortunately
but incandescently melts nothing,
just blazes through the yang and ying
patterns blossomed in the ice.
But sun-shimmered, it’s a very nice
light to watch a day arrive through,
rainbowed red and gold and silver-blue.
It keeps changing as we breathe,
so we’re reluctant to leave
the warm bed by the window,
on the fifth morning below zero.
Copyright 2023 Robert Wrigley
Robert Wrigley’s most recent collection of poetry is The True Account of Myself as a Bird (Penguin, 2022). His most recent collection of essays is Nemerov’s Door, published by Tupelo Press.
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Ah, the rhyme of reason! Thanks for this one, Bob (and Michael).
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Granted I have little connection with low temperature, but this one just felt warm and snuggly
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The poet lives in Idaho, so snow and ice appear in his poems often. I love his poems because they have an elegant music that sounds completely natural.
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Music is one of the things I like most about poetry
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Ah those subtle enjambing rhymes, the clear images, the cold “patterns blossomed in the ice”, the warm bed — I love this poem. (I remember, as a child, ‘etching’ stick figures with the nail of my index in the thin layers of ice on the windows…)
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Yes, Bob’s poems are subtly crafted and admirably understated.
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