Warm Cold

By Peter Halstead

Imagination disturbs my abstract thinking,
and cold reason my poetry.
—Friedrich Schiller

Like a blanket, sky descends
On meadows, hills, and trees;
Flake by flake the ceiling bends
Around the land’s deceptive ease,

The clouds a sheet that flaps
And settles as it winds
Its way onto the maps
And palings of the pines,

Pillows down in drifts
And flurries into white
Bedding in the woods, then lifts
Its icy corners and tucks them into night

Christmas, 2022
Tippet Alley


Cold snow tucks us into the cosseting coziness of a snowy night. There’s nothing cozier than getting into a warm bed on a snowy night. Both the cold reason of the storm and warm passion of the cabin collaborate in this Christmas poem. Of course the snow tucks itself into the pillows of snow in the woods, as it tucks the day into night.