New Year's Day 2009

well, i'm starting as i mean to go on this year - making the most of nick being home to keep an eye on the kids, i've been holed up in our bedroom for most of this afternoon, reading and writing...

i'm working through this book at the moment - it's a writer's course that comes with a couple of CDs, so i actually feel i'm on a writer's retreat :o)

while reading, i was suddenly inspired to pen this poem! it's only a first draft, so please critique it kindly :o)

New Year’s Day
The alder is grey-white
Against the white-grey sky.
All is still, silent, windless, cold.
Not even a solitary bird
Ruffles the window scene.

Inside is warmth and colour:
Blue ink across a yellow page,
Steam rising over a crimson cup.
Words tumble, images form,
But still the silence remains.

The writer reaches for the cup,
Casting a smiling eye on the alder.
It’s good to be alive, she thinks,
On the first day of a new year,
As the gypsies enflame the room
With their timeless dance.

1.1.09
In response to the chapter ‘The Gypsy Dances’
in Emily Hanlon, The Art of Fiction Writing