Poetry Friday: I'll Eat You, Winter Sun

It's that time of year in Boston when the sun sprints across the sky for the gold.

We've been talking about describing skin color with food metaphors, so it was interesting to note that poets also use that technique to describe the winter sun. Consider stanzas from these two poems, written about a century apart:

— by Robert Louis Stevenson

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.

by Whitman McGowan

Outside Paris waterfalls retreated back into mountains.
God Himself became an irrelevant ice cream vendor
slowly scooping a ball of lemon sherbet
from horizon to painted horizon.

So there. I can't stop you, winter sun, but thanks to the power of a good simile, I can eat you. 

The round-up today for Poetry Friday is hosted by readergirlz diva Holly Cupala.

Photo credit: rsms via creative commons.


Sarah Rettger said…
I think Sarah Miller's in complete sympathy, Mitali. (And I'm not far behind.)
Tricia said…
Thanks for sharing these words. They are beautiful, but I do not agree with the sentiment. I ADORE this time of year. There's just something about the bareness of it all that appeals to me. Perhaps it's that I know the promise of spring is to come.

(And since I no longer live in Buffalo, it's so much easier to swallow!)
TadMack said…
Wow! I'm loving the idea of oranges and sherbet right now, although the sky was plum-colored this afternoon when the sun went down (yep, we're at 4 p.m. already.) It's a nippy 2°C -- which is about 39°F, and now I want lemon sherbet, proving that a.) I could eat sherbet anytime, and b.) I'm not as bummed out by winter as I used to be.

I love the RLS poem -- and it's really true; having six hours of "daylight" in the fog and rain and hail can be intense. Luckily, I'm coming back to Cali for a month and will miss the worst of it! Whoo hoo!