An old life by Donald Hall

Snow fell in the night.
At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish
mounded softness where
the Honda was. Cat fed and coffee made,
I broomed snow off the car
and drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart
before Amy opened
to yank my Globe out of the bundle.
Back, I set my cup of coffee
beside Jane, still half-asleep,
murmuring stuporous
thanks in the aquamarine morning.
Then I sat in my blue chair
with blueberry bagels and strong
black coffee reading news,
the obits, the comics, and the sports.
Carrying my cup twenty feet,
I sat myself at the desk
for this day's lifelong
engagement with the one task and desire.

by Donald Hall

Other poems by 'Donald Hall'

Affirmation

Name of Horses

Sudden Things

White Apples

The Alligator Bride

Mount Kearsarge Shines

Villanelle

Wolf Knife

A Poet at Twenty

Distressed Haiku

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