I’m still in New Jersey, avoiding the thirty-below weather in the Interior, but enjoying the blustery weather here. In the Interior, winter air is generally still and a deep silence sets in at the coldest temperatures. Here, the wind brings its own active cold. At night I hear it rushing through the branches of the trees outside the window. Walking in it yesterday, I pulled my hat down over my ears and remembered just how cold wind chill can be.
So write about what the wind brings–memories, observations, or background music. Let it blow something unexpected into the poem.
Tags: Alaska, New Jersey, not complaining, poetry, wind, winter, writing, writing prompt
Mattie's Pillow 
January 5, 2010 at 10:03 am
Love your site!
January 5, 2010 at 12:27 pm
Thanks, Geri–I enjoy your artwork, too. Good to hear from you.
May 21, 2013 at 8:23 am
[…] I’m sick in bed. I have been overdoing it. By ‘it’, I mean everything. I could have told you this days ago, I didn’t need my body to issue a statement. But likely I wouldn’t have slowed on my own. Sunday a migraine, today a scratchy throat (the part of my body of which I’m most protective). I love to talk, to tell stories, to sing. Perhaps it is astrological superstition, or impressions made by my naturopath. Sickness often starts in my throat, so I’ve taken to always wrapping it up. I wrote the poem below some weeks back, but at the same bus stop last night I felt the cold air the way you do just before you get sick: more acutely, like your skin and bones are extra tender. And I instinctively tightened my collar. Cindy prompt #37. […]