“Awakening Chaos: Discover the Hidden Rhythms of School Mornings in Roy Pullam’s Poignant Poem”
Ever found yourself cocooned in the thick warmth of a down comforter, the world outside your window blanketed in frost? There’s something uniquely comforting about those chilly mornings—like waking up in a snow globe, where the outside world feels so distant. This poem captures that exquisite juxtaposition of warmth and cold, of comfort and the day’s inevitable demands. As we plunge into these vivid snapshots of a morning routine anchored in nostalgia, I can’t help but wonder: Are we, too, merely waiting for the flames of our own mornings to reawaken, or are we content to linger in the soft embrace of slumber? Join me as we explore this reflective journey that tugs on the heartstrings of memory, longing, and the gentle push toward a new day. LEARN MORE.

I lay in my bed
Sinking in the feather down
The cover
High on my neck
The fire in the grate
Banked to save
The coals
For the morning
The cold gathering
In the back
Of the room
I could see my breath
The chill
On my face
Causing me
To burrow
Beneath the quilts
Gradually my ears
Regained feeling
I slept
A deep dreamless sleep
Until the clock
Urged me
From my cocoon
I took the poker
Stirring the fire
Reawakening the slumbering flames
Gathering the ashes
Into a shovel
Loading a bucket
Taking them out
Exchanging them
For the black fuel
That warmed the house
I waited
Watching the fingers
Of flame
Break apart
The lumps
Now warm enough
The water heated
On the kitchen stove
Poured in a #2 washtub
For my morning bath
Toweling myself off
I sat close
In my underwear
The warmth
Soaking in
Like a lizard
On a warm rock
I cherished
The moments
Stirring only
To get dressed
To begin
The long walk
To school
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