\u2014with reverence for Coleridge\u2019s \u201cFrost at Midnight\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A fire, much like the one that Coleridge nursed,
leaps muttering toward the flue; flames lick one log
in front, as his flames did. The room, no worse
for lulling me into a winter fog,
is deep in thought; I doze a little. Spring
remains aloof from any hint of pleasure:
the wind, as cold and strong as January\u2019s,
mocks the happy lisp of glowing coals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The room is warm. The windows darken still.
Fire complements the incandescent light
I need to fuse the moment into lines.
It will end, the fire; its light will turn to day.
This poem remains the only memory
of a quiet night I had just this to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014with reverence for Coleridge\u2019s \u201cFrost at Midnight\u201d A fire, much like the one that Coleridge nursed,leaps muttering toward the flue; flames lick one login front, as his flames did. The room, no worsefor lulling me into a winter fog,is deep in thought; I doze a little. Springremains aloof from any hint of pleasure:the wind, as … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[4,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2946","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-Lw","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2946","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2946"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2946\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2949,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2946\/revisions\/2949"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2946"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2946"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2946"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Donald Wheelock has written formal poetry for decades. Recent attempts to publish it have proved successful, which he finds gratifying after a long career as a composer and college teacher.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"