Sonnet For A Saturday Nap While The Snow Falls


The lowering clouds a winter’s day make dreary
And the ice-slick streets the travelers foot lead astray
As the wandering spirit wends a long way weary
Through the endless grey and dismal day –
Until the sparking light of homestead warm
That welcome beacon of repose softly shining
And glittering with promise of berth from yonder storm
On the traveler for couch and counterpane pining.
Then does the weary head lay soft to rest
While silent snowflakes fall in sheets of white
And thrumming cat against one’s back is pressed
The feeble daylight trickles out to night.

The question rises up without a doubt:
Arise from couch to cook or then dine out?



About Lori Holder-Webb

I'm a Southern Woman by birth and a Texan Woman by upbringing...and yet I find myself living in New England and married to a New York City boy. Up here we use the same currency as we do at home, and I don't need to travel with a passport, but the commonalities pretty much end there. The language is different, the jokes are different, the people are different, and the weather and terrain sure are different too. I moved away from Texas in 2002, and ever since then, I've been the stranger in the strange land... I've had some questions about the name of the blog - if you were not alive, or living abroad or under a rock, or in grad school during the late 1980s, Oldsmobile attempted to shuck its stodgy image with a series of commercials intended to bring brand appeal to the younger generation: this car, they said, is not your father's Oldsmobile. If you have a morbid curiosity, hit YouTube for William Shatner will take you right there.

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