Two Winter Poems

Ellen Reid

Winter Hymnal for a Sunday Morning Said Eucharist

Surrounded by a silence
that only a stone Cathedral encapsulates

we hear music.

The rhythmic clink and clank and rattle from the loops as the tenor wind
shakes the scaffolding tarp like an ancient sail.

The whistles and hisses and hums and staccato clicking beat as the

dusty radiators warm the Nave. The woosh and crash and bang as the icy crusty snow drifts slide

from the slate roof.

We are not distracted by the melody
only inspired this morning by the anthem.

February 22, 2023 E.B. Reid


Sometimes the road we travel
has not yet been cleared for us,
has not yet been cleaned of snow,
has not yet been been sanded and salted and is not bare and smooth. And the wind is cold these days and ice pellets sting our cheeks and we wish for Sun
and crave the smell of sunscreen. But we are thankful
that the treads of our boots
and the grooves of our foot falls are not worn down
as we trek every morning
up that snow crusted hill.

February 22, 2023 E.B. Reid

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