Unspoken Word
December 21, 2024
STARING OUT THE WINDOW

In my 77th year,
staring out the window of my soul,
I see snow on the roof
of the house across the street.

I have no idea who lives there
and even less of an idea who lives here --
the place where I get my mail
and friends sometimes visit,
commenting, as they enter,
how good it feels to have arrived.

I see a statue of the Buddha by the window
and Christmas lights above his head.

On the fireplace, stockings are hung with care,
empty for now.

To my right a book of Leonard Cohen's poetry
sits there like a monk
having so much to say, but no need to say it.

In a few days, more people will arrive.
They will have bottles of wine and presents.
We will hug, but not long enough.

I will take their coats and put them on the bed,
then I will light some candles
or maybe I won't,
pausing for a moment
to see if the snow on the roof
of the house across the street
has gotten any deeper.

Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at 11:10 AM | Comments (0)

“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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