21 Dec 20 Guest Poets: Getting Through the Winter #1

Note: Not all of today’s Guest Poets and their poems are about winter. Rather, the poems are gems to keep for a snug-in-the-ol’-cabin winter night, or to spark the spirit while reading one or more over strong, morning coffee. They are meant to thaw the gray matter and poke the fires of thought which we all need during the season of thick quilts, warm mittens, and hot chocolate. While we’re at it, the poems also speak directly or indirectly to how fortunate are those who have quilts, time for morning coffee, and if truly blessed, a cozy cabin.

Here we are – the Solstice - the first day of Winter and the one with shortest amount of daylight in the year. After today, slowly increasing daylight (also slowly) brightens our mood. The first day of winter, eh? Then why is it that in Minnesota, we local folks always feel like we’ve been in the snowy season for at least six weeks before the actual calendar date marking the change of seasons? That’s because we typically are, but not this year.

 

So far (and remember, yesterday was the last day of autumn), we’ve had it easy – or should I say we’ve been comfortable? Normal or above temperatures. Precipitation below normal. That’s not such a good thing for our tree friends nor for glacial aquifer nor for the needs of our invaluable farmers. When we did have precipitation, so far it has been snow – the fluffy, sparkling kind, so perfect it looks like the floor of a downtown display window. So far, no ice has covered the ground, so if you dare, take the spikes off your mukluks.

The first day of Winter is a good time to check in on our weather of the recent past and try to guess what the next 3 months or so will bring. We had a magnificent Autumn. Our insect friends packed it in early. Even the mosquitoes flew south – or somewhere – in early September. Lots of sunny days and Beltrami Island Forest in all its autumnal glory.

Looking forward, some forecasters say that we’re in for a harsh, tough winter. Others say not so much. If you want it from the crystal ball of The Farmer’s Almanac, (a big-sister publication to the Wannaskan Almanac) you’ll find predictions of a strange season, like so many in recent decades. Temps are expected to be above normal. So is precipitation, especially on the west side of our gopher State for Minnesota. Here you go. . .

ANNUAL WEATHER SUMMARY

NOVEMBER 2020 TO OCTOBER 2021

“Winter temperatures and precipitation will be above normal, while snowfall will be above normal in the east and below normal in the west. The coldest periods will be in early to mid- and late December, late January, and late February. The snowiest periods will be in late December, early and late January, late February, and early March. [And farther into 2021] . . .April and May will be warmer and drier than normal. Summer will be hotter and drier than normal, with the hottest periods in early June, early July, and mid- and late August. September and October will have below-normal temperatures and precipitation.”

Honestly, I don’t pay that much attention to the weather around the country unless Gaia kicks up a couple of notches with a tornado or six, a hurricane that makes landfall, or the effects of wind speeds on firefighting. Well, I guess I do pay some attention, but for me, the weather horizon is close in because waaaay up here in Northwest Minnesota, we usually have our hands full just watching and responding to our own “interesting” weather patterns.

So, all that said, what’s the meat of today’s post? Well, actually, this is the first of several posts good for “getting through the winter,” should the overcast sky predominant, the temps plummet, and the snow bunnies bounce down Bemis Hill reveling in snow 48 to 60 inches deep. Keep these poetic gems handy as winter deepens, the snow piles pile up, and the temps do what temps do.

The poems are presented first. Then under the usual “Background” section, you’ll find a brief comment on each of the poems/poets.

Jingle all the way . . . !                           

                Deck the halls. . .!                                                            

                        Rest ye merry gentle persons. . . 

                                winter is coming.

POEMS for GETTING THROUGH THE WINTER. . . 

whatever that means

My House

    Nikki Giovanni

i only want to

be there to kiss you

as you want to be kissed

when you need to be kissed

where i want to kiss you

cause its my house and i plan to live in it

 

i really need to hug you

when i want to hug you

as you like to hug me

does this sound like a silly poem

 

i mean its my house

and i want to fry pork chops

and bake sweet potatoes

and call them yams

cause i run the kitchen

and i can stand the heat

 

i spent all winter in

carpet stores gathering

patches so i could make

a quilt

does this really sound

like a silly poem

 

i mean i want to keep you

warm

 

and my windows might be dirty

but its my house

and if i can't see out sometimes

they can't see in either

 

english isn't a good language

to express emotion through

mostly i imagine because people

try to speak english instead

of trying to speak through it

i don't know maybe it is

a silly poem

 

i'm saying it's my house

and i'll make fudge and call

it love and touch my lips

to the chocolate warmth

and smile at old men and call

it revolution cause what's real

is really real

and i still like men in tight

pants cause everybody has some

thing to give and more

important need something to take

 

and this is my house and you make me

happy

so this is your poem

be there to kiss you

as you want to be kissed

when you need to be kissed

Wild Geese   

        Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

 

After Abolition                      

        Kyle Carrero Lopez

Prisons and cops survive only in tales for the young
like twin Atlantises or two drowned boogeymen.
A cop’s as harmless a Halloween getup as any
monster, while a prisoner costume’s as taboo as a slave one
now that schools teach what makes them kin.
A prison is the far-off past of a structure
turned free housing, each cell wall knocked to sandcastle
ruin, halls reshaped and re-dyed in green paints,
former floor plans carved out like shores
into spacious homes, laundry and A/C a given in each.
Though prisons and cops won’t be found anywhere,
our youths still learn of them, and they know what they mean,
how they look, how they function, what it will take to stop them                                                              if they return with new names.  

Background:

My House

Nikki Giovanni has courage. There’s no holding back from including short conversations between poetry and the poem. Nikki seems to be talking directly to us and comforts us with her rhythm and flow. She even has the confidence to wonder whether this poem might be a silly poem, but she keeps going anyway. My take is that Nikki is a samurai poet, and her pen is her katana, taking your metaphorical head off before you know the sword is out of its scabbard and cutting through your illusions.

Wild Geese

Mary Oliver is a poet whose name is recognized even by those who don’t care for the art. Some people say that this poem comforts them more than any other verse. Like Nikki Giovanni, Mary Oliver doesn’t shy away from the straightforward – the truth. Note how she begins, Wild Geese: “You do not have to be good.” Then there’s the invitation to have a dialogue with Mary – about “despair.” 

After Abolition

Kyle Carrero Lopez will definitely light your fire this winter, and he will poke about your embers until you blaze. If you want a distraction, as well as a short dive into social activism, pull out this short poem by Lopez. Some of us have been doing our best to ignore the troubles experienced (and escalating) with justice, prisons, and equity. The depths of the season, may be a good time to consider these matters, and to decide how, if at all, you personally fit, serve, or otherwise attend to these concerns.

Exploration 1: What is winter to you? Sure, it’s something to complain about, just like the heat in summer; but really, dig deep and get in touch with your relationship with the season that arguably is the most controversial of them all.

Exploration 2: Wild Geese – Consider the poem’s first line. Is it okay “not . . . to be good” in this historical pandemic? Would “not being good” give us a reprieve from this long-haul relationship with the virus?

Exploration 3: Is winter an appropriate time to consider and act on serious matters, such as social unrest, police departments, racial equity, systemic racism? For you, is any time an appropriate time?