WARM MORNING-a poem [Sat, 5-12-18]

WARM MORNING-a poem   [Sat, 5-12-18]

The stove was called Warm Morning

The morning was not warm

for my father

He got up first

to shake the ashes down

pour the new coal in

take the cinders out

Sometimes, cold mornings now

I lie beneath the comfort

of down-filled quilts and covers

wishing someone else

would get up first

place bare feet on cold floor

walk down the hall

and nudge the little lever

in the round thing

on the wall

to make the morning warm

Then I hear the sound of ashes

shaking down

JRMcF

johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com

I always note “poem” in the title as a warning. Further warning: It’s almost always Saturday when I post a poem, because the Google stats people say CIW has few readers on Saturday. So if you want to avoid my poetry, Saturday is a good day to skip. I’m not ashamed of my poetry attempts, but I know I’m not really a poet, so I try to be as un-intrusive with it as possible. Obviously, though, you are a hearty soul, or just like amateurish poetry, and I thank you for hanging in there.

This one was written on 9-20-08.