An Old Life Poem by Donald Hall

An Old Life

Rating: 3.1


Snow fell in the night.
At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish
mounded softness where
the Honda was. Cat fed and coffee made,
I broomed snow off the car
and drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart
before Amy opened
to yank my Globe out of the bundle.
Back, I set my cup of coffee
beside Jane, still half-asleep,
murmuring stuporous
thanks in the aquamarine morning.
Then I sat in my blue chair
with blueberry bagels and strong
black coffee reading news,
the obits, the comics, and the sports.
Carrying my cup twenty feet,
I sat myself at the desk
for this day's lifelong
engagement with the one task and desire.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Trucker Jeff 18 June 2006

Sometimes the best poems are just pictures of a normal moment in life. I like this poem. It is a snap shot, a journal entry.

8 5 Reply
Ken E Hall 03 February 2010

Top marks for a reality poem, and I enjoyed a coffee with you++++10 regards

7 5 Reply
M Asim Nehal 22 May 2016

I agree...........

0 0 Reply
J Garcia 19 February 2014

Can someone explain to me what this poem means?

5 4 Reply
cumsock 28 April 2022

look at my name

0 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 16 September 2019

The daily routine of the old man beautifully portrayed.

0 0 Reply
michael walker 31 August 2019

'An Old Life' when Jane was still alive and what he did to pass the day. All his small actions are nothing compared to 'engagement with the one task and desire'. Caring for Jane.

0 0 Reply
Don Bukana 13 October 2017

I always feel like I am free like a bird in the sky after reading your poems. Your poems are gift to this site. 10 marks

0 0 Reply
Susan Williams 22 May 2016

He speaks to the writer in us- we have our routine, it prepares us for the retreat to the desk and the task before us- writing that poem, that short story, that novel. Absolutely nailed us whether we follow his routine or one uniquely our own!

10 1 Reply
Smoky Hoss 22 May 2016

It's a wonderful picture, how he only needs travel, coffee cup in hand, a short distance to his life's calling; each day another segment of the monument to living. His wife, Jane Kenyon, was a fantastic poet also.

3 1 Reply
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Donald Hall

Hamden / Connecticut
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