Friday, January 16, 2009
On a Cold Winter's Night
Last night was bitterly cold. While on my way to my car I overheard a snippet of conversation between two young ladies at the bus stop. "Whatcha doing later?" "I'm gonna curl up with So-and So's latest, a blanket, hot chocolate ..." "Oh, yeah! She is hot!!" I didn't recognize the author's name, probably a best selling romance novelist, but I certainly could agree with the sentiment.
When I arrived home I said to myself, Since you are a poet, what poet would you curl up with on a cold winter's night? and spent some time reflecting on it. Not one who was fiery, intense and emotional. Not someone who would demand all your attention. Not someone who makes you work to follow his mental gymnastics. Someone with a slow hand and a soothing voice.
The first name that came up was Robert Frost, because of the simlicity and gentility of his poetry, not because of his name. I approved of my choice but then told myself, As a Canadian, with what Canadian poet would you share a winter evening in front of the fire?
After a lengthy pause the names came like the first slow drips of a morning icicle: Glen Sorestad; Ralph Gustafson; Emile Nelligan for a dash of French; Margaret Avison for a feminine perspective. Several more, including good friends of mine.
I have warmth, good food and drink, poetry galore.
I need only some body to cuddle.