The Winter Solstice is almost here, /lit/. What do you like to read in Winter? What are your favorite depictions of Winter in poetry and prose?
>>24958198SNOWDROPNow is the globe shrunk tightRound the mouse’s dulled wintering heart.Weasel and crow, as if moulded in brass,Move through an outer darknessNot in their right minds,With the other deaths. She, too, pursues her ends,Brutal as the stars of this month,Her pale head heavy as metal.— Ted HughesNAPOLEONWhat is the world, O soldiers?It is I:I, this incessant snow,This northern sky;Soldiers, this solitudeThrough which we goIs I.— Walter de la MareSHE TELLS HER LOVEShe tells her love while half asleep,In the dark hours,With half-words whispered low:As Earth stirs in her winter sleepAnd puts out grass and flowers,Despite the snow,Despite the falling snow.— Robert Graves
>>24958198Ice lay along the shore, frangible plates skewed up and broken on the mud and small icegardens whitely all down the drained and frozen flats where delicate crystal columns sprouted from the mire. He hauled forth his shriveled giblet and pissed a long and smoking piss into the river and spat and buttoned and went in again. He kicked the door shut and stood before the stove in a gesture of enormous exhortation. A frozen hermit. His lower jaw in a seizure. He cast about and got his cup and looked into it. He turned it up and tapped it and an amber lens of frozen coffee slid forth and went rocking and clattering around the basin. He took down the frying pan and set it on the stove and spooned the stiff gray grease. From his packingcrate pantry he selected two eggs and tapped one smartly on the rim of the pan. It rang like stone. He threw it against the wall and it dropped to the floor and rolled oblong and woodenly beneath the bunk. He hung the pan back on the wall and stared out the window. Frost ferns arched from the sashcorners over the glass and the river slouched past like some drear drainage from the earth’s bowels. Suttree buttoned his coat and went out.— Cormac McCarthy, ‘Suttree’
>>24958198You mean summer solstice
Longing Death’s white winterIn the disordered sky More brightly than starsA ghostly winter More brightly than stars Forever and ever
>>24959259Thought this was the poetry general
>>24958198Over a thousand hills with no birds in flight,The myriad paths had not one footprint in sight.A straw hat man sits in a small lone boat,Fishing alone in the cold frozen moat.
