Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Poem of the Week

the smell of crisp, dry leaves burning
the numbness of limbs out too long in the cold, cheeks flushed red--
unnoticed until hours later
and everyone else has gone inside
in search of hot chocolate and warm soup





This poem was originally published on July 23, 2008 in Falling Plum Poetry

2 comments:

  1. Very nice. DD came in with very cold cheeks after walking the dog this morning (6:15-6:45).

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  2. She is very dedicated to her animals.

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