Winter Piece

by Peter Goldsworthy

Peter Goldsworthy

Our son splashes carefully home
from puddle to puddle,
deep stepping stones.

We walk a shout behind
watching from inside our clothes,
breathing small clouds into the sky.

Around us the hard economy of winter:
frugal colour schemes, and underfoot
the worn currency of leaves.

We wrap our clothes tighter,
sheltering our feelings:
this mundane candle-power of love,

these memories of warmth this morning,
our son between us in the bed,
the coins of rain spilling over the roof.

Last updated February 20, 2023