Parallel Outlet: 13

Image result for cosy winter painting

loving you is like walking in the door, warm
the snow soaks into my clothes
turning to water and
rinsing me clean

Even with the curtains shut, and no fireplace to be seen in my bachelor apartment, poem number 61 from ELLEGUYENCE gives me the sensation of looking out onto a crisp snowy landscape, frost on the glass and a fire crackling at my side.

What is the difference between that kind of coziness, and the feeling of love? Hot cocoa and kisses, flannel sheets and hugs. I have been pondering this without finding a factor that I can use to delineate those two sensations. Even though their origins may differ wildly, viscerally they feel so very similar to me, and I don’t mean this to trivialize love. Maybe the opposite.

your pillow is always the softest.

Whether it is the softest pillow I have ever held or the gentlest person I have ever known, these things jumble together to form gratitude. Snowy days are carrying away my wistfulness at another year’s leaves falling, and I’m happy to be sitting inside with my tea, re-reading Elle’s 61, which I think you should read too.

you said you never believed in luck
until you saw my chances
and cast a bet anyway.


Image from Pinterest.

Tea Garden

There is the city

Which runs on scarce time

Where silence in parks

Walks soft and shy

There is the suburb

Where details await

Of pantry and pocket

Of sheets left in the rain


There is the road

Which runs in between

Where one among others

May pass quite unseen

But beyond these places

You will find flowered lanes

Winding ’round an estate

Where tranquility reigns

And there is a garden

Where I sit in the shade

Where you might escape

The sequence of days

So come through the gate

And shed weary nights

Come to take tea

With honey and spice

© 2012, Elizabeth Cook