Poetry Sunday: January by John Updike

In the northern hemisphere, we are now in the dead of winter, even as many in the southern hemisphere scorch under unbearable heat waves.

John Updike, of course, was a New Englander, and the winter he describes in this short poem is a New England winter. It might still be accurate, although I doubt there are any milk bottles bursting outside the door!
  
January

by John Updike

The days are short,
The sun a spark,
Hung thin between
The dark and dark.

Fat snowy footsteps
Track the floor.
Milk bottles burst
Outside the door.

The river is
A frozen place
Held still beneath
The trees of lace.

The sky is low.
The wind is gray.
The radiator
Purrs all day.

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