Poem: Awakened by a Cold Wind

Awakened by a Cold Wind

It came upon me like I was asleep 

And woken by a cold wind

So that I pulled up the covers

Snuggling in deeper to the warmth

Of slumber. But something changed

While I slept. things familiar

Were made strange by rust,

By moth eaten holes, by time

That I did not see pass.

And now, as I wake on this morn,

I see the frost on my beard

That yesterday was black.

My babes are now grown men

Moved away to lands I had

Never seen, let alone dreamed

As in my slumber I pulled up 

The covers over my head to 

Keep warm from the cold breeze

That disturbed my slumber

And made me forget that I 

Too would grow old

And all that glitter I owned

Would rust to nothing,

Along with my clothing that became

Feed for the pesky moth

Attracted to the flame

By which I tell you.

For you too, this will be the same.

The ancestors spoke of it

And it was so, yet I 

Listened not until this morning

As if they were speaking still.

January 2024

About This Poem

This poem was inspired by the cold of January and my love for old cemeteries. So many of the early New England cemeteries have little epitaphs about paying attention to time because soon you will be where they are. It's too true and yet we ignore it. That's the slumber of life that I symbolize with the bed covers. You can read it as depressing, a warning, or a subtle reminder to enjoy what you have while you can. That is how I intend this poem for anyone reading it. I am, of course, aware that the epitaphs were written not by the dead, but the living, as is this poem. The photo is one of those old tombstones from Hull Village, an island in Massachusetts Bay near Boston.