New poem: "The Winters of My Content"

 The Winters of My Content

 Looking out my bonus room window

this morning from what Virginia Woolf

called a room of one’s own to write in,

I saw the first snowfall of the year,

and my mind flooded with memories

of the winters of my content when I’m

most free to write at will, my thoughts

for poems, stories, novels, memoirs,

and essays flowing with as much vitality

as the life force in spring. How happy I

am to see all that white, ever so clean

and restful to the eyes after the glorious

colors of our Georgian Bay fall, having

blown and picked up the last of our leaves

the day before our first snowfall!