Tuesday, December 27, 2005

ANOTHER FATHER POEM

So I was just wondering... why Father Christmas? Because he drops the gifts and promptly scoots off to the next house? :) Also wondering... where is Julia?? Not like her to leave MAAP empty, so I will fill in today. I give you one of my favorite poems, and it just happens to be about a father.

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

- Robert Hayden (1913-1980)

3 Comments:

Blogger J.B. Rowell said...

Thanks Irene!
I am settling into the quiet of a house that was bursting with family, food, drink, laughter for a week. Now our house seems so big and empty. It is a relief and also sad to have everyone leave, except my mother-in-law who is here for a few more days.

I really appreciate you posting today, what a great question - why Father Christmas, also Father Time, but then Mother Earth. Hmmmmmm. Also, the poem is terrific, I love the ending and "fearing the chronic angers of that house."

12:41 PM, December 27, 2005  
Blogger J.B. Rowell said...

Just got your Father Christmas joke - hilarious! I'm a bit slow today . . .

1:30 PM, December 27, 2005  
Blogger reniebob said...

Glad somebody "gets" me. :) (Running joke in my family that no one gets my humor... problem in the delivery maybe? Nah, it's just them.)
Enjoy your quiet....

4:12 PM, December 27, 2005  

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