Love’s Lonely Offices

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack 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 Hayden

Author: Craig Butcher

Craig Butcher is an award-winning educator who has taught critical thinking skills for more than two decades. In addition, He has worked on Capitol Hill as a congressional aide and has been a top-rated broadcaster.