That wonderful texture and sound comes back,
the time my feet crunch upon a beaten track,
coupled with the rawness of fresh air,
that brushes passed my ginger hair,
though a treacherous path, the frost does make,
I take it as a test, to make sure I’m awake,
thus, steady is my stride, as I take it in,
that again I am embracing wintering.
That auspicious, unique smell returns,
in those giant cauldrons the sugar burns,
on a clear day I see those artificial clouds,
signifying it’s near for many merry crowds,
where the lights dance pretty upon the trees,
and where many wallets will become empty,
but the beet to me, means so much more,
it’s the aroma of the home, that I adore.
-
Author:
AuburnScribbler (
Offline) - Published: November 28th, 2021 10:47
- Comment from author about the poem: Other than shops decorating far too well in advance and that awful Mariah Carey song, in my town, there are two definitive signals that Christmas is looming, frost and sugar beet. Accompanying this poem is a very apt picture from Andrew Hill at geograph.org.uk. Sadly not of my hometown's, but just outside Ipswich (I couldn't find a wintery picture of mine, Newark, but I think it still does the job). I hope that you enjoy the poem, and as always, please stay safe everyone.
- Category: Nature
- Views: 27
Offline)
Comments2
The words kept me enticed till the ending. And yes, that Mariah Carey song they can burn with the sugar.
Thanks for the read Nicholas Browning, I hope that all is well, and I'm glad that you agree with disowning a certain song!
That home is so special in our lives Ben.
Andy
Thanks for the read Andy, I hope all is well, and yeah, it most certainly is!
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