The First Signs of Winter
The light is fading, slowly,
over the tops of low-roofed houses,
the narrow, darkening lanes.
Shadows of various kinds converge on
the west-facing frost-glass windows,
keep us very much to ourselves.
A lone cloud moves towards the north
and then settles over the young,
topmost branches of a tree.
The last light is leaning
over the windows now, along with
the shadows of an earlier time.
The seaside town is waiting for
its tame winter, which might perhaps
appear tomorrow, with the September rains,
or, as it sometimes does,
might not, just might not
appear anywhere at all.
Bibhu Padhi has published ten collections of poems. His work
has appeared in magazines and anthologies throughout the English-speaking
world. He lives in Bhyubaneswar (India) with his family.
Bibhu,
ReplyDeleteA great poem. Welcome to Whispers if you are new, a warm welcome fro me even if you are not.
Your new friend,
David Fox
Beautiful poem with silken-flow of words.
ReplyDeleteDear Bibhu,
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this image-rich poem. I especially like, "west-facing-frost glass windows." I have much to learn about other countries. Poems like this are helpful.
Michael
A charming poem, Bidhu:
ReplyDeleteI have lived in climates like that where there is barely a difference between Summer and Winter. Where I live now has definite seasons and they each have their charm.
Nice to see you on Whispers. SuZ
Elegant and deeply moving.
ReplyDelete