View From My Window
The Day After Groundhog's Day, Feb. 2005
I look out onto the patio, and see twilight
falling on the bare branches of
the trees; snow is crumbling slowly,
melting off my brown sneakers as I stomp
on an orange peel before I enter my
neighbor's house, a man with a bald
head and wire-rimmed glasses that slides down
his face, who is telling me the story of his
nephew's first winter. I shuck my coat-it's
sweltering in here-and hang it in the hall
closet. Then my neighbor (I think his name is
Stan) leads us further and further into the house,
where the smell of roasted almonds meet
my nostrils. The roaring fire in the fire place
makes me forget about the winter and the cold
that makes your breath gasp, and your eyes
water.
-Feb. 3rd, 2005
falling on the bare branches of
the trees; snow is crumbling slowly,
melting off my brown sneakers as I stomp
on an orange peel before I enter my
neighbor's house, a man with a bald
head and wire-rimmed glasses that slides down
his face, who is telling me the story of his
nephew's first winter. I shuck my coat-it's
sweltering in here-and hang it in the hall
closet. Then my neighbor (I think his name is
Stan) leads us further and further into the house,
where the smell of roasted almonds meet
my nostrils. The roaring fire in the fire place
makes me forget about the winter and the cold
that makes your breath gasp, and your eyes
water.
-Feb. 3rd, 2005
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The Day After Groundhog`s Day, Feb. 2005
The Day After Groundhog`s Day, Feb. 2005
