Austere Love

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

“Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?”
–  Robert HaydenThose Winter Sundays

One thought on “Austere Love

  1. Emily ,
    I enjoy that the treasures of writings from you, come one at a time to me … as it gives me time to savory each one and dwell on them alone, to reflect how they touch my life even though I live clear across the state , amazed at how each different story is part of my life as well as a part of all others that might have the joy to read them .
    How we live different lives but in our hearts and mind they are not so different .
    Our feelings… they are so shared in how you touch my life in ways I don’t allow others to touch .
    How open and honest you are in them …
    How we all need to be more tolerant of people in our families as they are doing the best they can in their own way … thanks again .
    Peggy in a freezing foggy morning
    thinking how nice it would be to wake up to spring


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