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| Nicole Weiser |
THE BELLS
Ushered onboard in the heart
Of a deep prairie winter
Almost as cold in the coach
As it is outside in the snow
The conductor gives me a blanket
The cars shuttle and shriek
Through frozen fallow fields
Distant farmyards seem dead
In a dead landscape
I can’t stop shivering.
I try to summon a boy’s courage
And a sense of adventure
I wonder how my parents felt
When they saw me off
Too cold to stand and wave
My white breath clouds
The window fogging over
My view of passing lands
I burn the ball of my hand
Rubbing a circle to see through
I am alone in the long coach
Winter passengers are rare
The train begins to slow
When it approaches the village
I pull my scarf tighter
A classic station house
With a long platform
Stands over a row of tiny houses
Squatting in the drifts
By a school and a false-front store
Stooped and hushed and cold
I take one burning breath
Before running inside
To huddle by a pot-belly stove
Radiating welcome warmth
Another hole rubbed
In another window shows
The faraway farm buildings
A dark distant wrinkle
On an endless blue horizon
Soon enough I see a speck
Growing over the snow
As horse and cutter come on
When I can see the steam
From the horse’s hairy nose
I hurry outside to pet him
Then I’m helped up
By a leather-mittened hand
Greeted with a thin-lipped grin
Above a frosted grizzled chin
I snuggle under a horsehide robe
Backed with heavy flannel
My feet dangle over hot bricks
My grandfather clucks to his beast
And we’re off to the jingle of bells
Enjoy more posts by Gregg Norman HERE.
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| Gregg Norman |
Gregg Norman lives and writes in a lakeside cottage in Manitoba, Canada, with his wife and a small dog who runs the joint. His poetry has been placed in journals and literary magazines in Canada, the USA, the UK, Australia, Europe, and India. He is a 2024 Best of the Net nominee.
