Morning at Last: There in the Snow
Morning at last: there in the snow
Your small blunt footprints come and go.
Night has left no more to show,
Not the candle, the half-drunk wine,
Or touching joy; only this sign
Of your life walking into mine.
But when they vanish with the rain
What morning woke to will remain
Whether happiness or pain.
~ Philip Larkin
21 comments:
Good morning! An excellent selection for this snow-covered day! I hope your Sunday is full of good surprises.
What a wintery wonderland
...love the warmth of your
fireside these chilled days.
Thanks for keeping it warm...
-Jennifer
Just lovely, Relyn. Hope you are doing what I am doing this chilly, cloudy Sunday. Not much!
Just saying "hello" my dear : )
So grateful for your beauty : )
Sweet Sunday over there,
Liz : )
Ah, the snow is finally just about melted here. Since we don't see much of it here, it was quite a treat to have it on the ground so long, but now it is time for it to go! Have a wonderful week!
A lovely day to you, Relyn. Have a lovely, warmth filled day.
xo Erin
What a gorgeous view.
ps I have never heard of snow allergen either!
Karen
I do hope your morning woke with happiness today. Lovely poem!
Lovely poem and illustration - it would seem there are many winter-themed posts today, as I browse my poor, neglected blog friends. Hope your day was grand - and cozy!
Love the photo. And the line, "of your life walking into mine." Hope you had a delightful weekend!
Kirsten
So lovely...While snow can be something to deal with, a force unto unto itself, it also can have a very smoothing quality...We had snow all weekend here... again... ;o) Happy Day, Relyn ((HUGS))
i have missed you while i was playing.....i think i'm back now :)
stay warm this week friend...
What a lovely photo. And since I'm ready for spring...I'll gladly keep snow to my poetry! :)
Have a good week ...
beautiful.
This is a beautiful poem and lovely photo. I hope you are enjoying your day off.
Here's another Larkin poem that I like. Your recent post made me think of it.
What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
Is this a vintage photo, or does it just look like one? The picture is a poem, too.
This is brilliant, brilliant! Perfect combination of image and poem. Chilling, but in a good way!
Beth,
I love the poem you shared. Thank you. Nope. It's not a vintage photo. I took it last winter through the dirty windshield. I like the wavy quality that gave it.
For some reason I missed this ...
and I'm glad I found it today
I am still sitting here wishing for snow. Just one good snowfall before spring. Can you send me some snow clouds?
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