<figure class="
sqs-block-image-figure
intrinsic
"
>


























</figure>

January 20 - February 2

In this fortifying episode, Alexis and Kit weather the coldest days of the year by taking part in indoor pleasures, admiring the austere beauty of the winter landscape, and looking forward to spring. Hiro’s Corner takes a deeper look at the seasonal phrase “big cold.”

Listen and subscribe on Apple and Spotify.

---

Poems Featured this Episode

Excerpt from “The Invitation” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Best and brightest, come away!
Fairer far than this fair Day,
Which, like thee to those in sorrow,
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough Year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
The Brightest hour of unborn Spring,
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn
To hoar February born.
Bending from Heaven, in azure mirth,
It kissed the forehead of the Earth,
And smiled upon the silent sea,
And bade the frozen streams be free,
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains,
And like a prophetess of May
Strewed flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.

***

Winter's Beauty by William Henry Davies

Is it not fine to walk in spring,
When leaves are born, and hear birds sing?
And when they lose their singing powers,
In summer, watch the bees at flowers?
Is it not fine, when summer's past,
To have the leaves, no longer fast,
Biting my heel where'er I go,
Or dancing lightly on my toe?
Now winter's here and rivers freeze;
As I walk out I see the trees,
Wherein the pretty squirrels sleep,
All standing in the snow so deep:
And every twig, however small,
Is blossomed white and beautiful.
Then welcome, winter, with thy power
To make this tree a big white flower;
To make this tree a lovely sight,
With fifty brown arms draped in white,
While thousands of small fingers show
In soft white gloves of purest snow.

***

I'm January by Annette Wynne

I'm January bringing you
A year of days—all brand, brand new;
I step upon the frosty ground.
When chimes and sleighbells ring around;
You welcome me and children sing,
And joy comes into everything.
I bring you love and lots of cheer,
And work and friends for all the year.

***

The winter storm
Hide the bamboo grove
And quieted away.
– Basho

***

Winter solitude—
In a world of one color
The sound of wind.
— Basho

***

Winter Dawn by Amos Russell Wells

The trees are still; the bare cold branches lie
Against a waiting sky.
Light everywhere, but ghostly light that seems
The cast-off robe of dreams;
And everywhere a hush that seems to hark
At the doorway of the dark.
O fields, white-sheeted, desolate and dumb,—
If you knew what's to come!

***

Night wind--
the shrine's icicles
reflect the lights
– Issa

***
The Thawing Wind by Robert Frost

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

***
Excerpt from The House on Pooh Corner by A.A.Milne

The more it snows (Tiddely pom)
The more it goes  (Tiddely pom)
The more it goes  (Tiddely pom)
On snowing

And nobody knows  (Tiddely pom)
How cold my toes (Tiddely pom)
How cold my toes (Tiddely pom)
Are growing

***

No fix place to live
in my traveler's mind -
this little kotatsu
– Basho

***

Moving to a new home
it really fits perfectly,
my old kotatsu . . . 

– Buson

***

My true love
night after night --
my hot water bottle 
— Kobayashi Issa

***

All I ask of the world,
a hot water bottle -
I'm cold!
— Naito Meisetsu

***

Clicking of needles -
the promise of warmth takes shape
in my cold hands
— Kit

***

Excerpt from The Winter’s Come, by John Clare

Tis Winter, and I love to read indoors,
When the Moon hangs her crescent up on high;
While on the window shutters the wind roars,
And storms like furies pass remorseless by.
How pleasant on a feather bed to lie,
Or, sitting by the fire, in fancy soar
With Dante or with Milton to regions high,
Or read fresh volumes we've not seen before,
Or o’er old Burton's Melancholy pore.

***

After the Winter by Claude McKay

Some day, when trees have shed their leaves
And against the morning’s white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night,
We’ll turn our faces southward, love,
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire the shafted grove
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.

And we will seek the quiet hill
Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
And works the droning bee.
And we will build a cottage there
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,
And ferns that never fade.

***

I Cannot Dance upon my Toes by Emily Dickinson

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad

In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,
Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow

Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so—
Nor any know I know the Art
I mention—easy—Here—
Nor any Placard boast me—
It’s full as Opera—

***
The Poor Trees Stand and Shiver So, by Annette Wynne

The poor trees stand and shiver so,
Like ragged beggars in a row,
Without a cloak in frost and snow.

I think it's strange about the trees—
In summer when there's little breeze
They all dress up rich as you please.

No beggars then, but fine and grand
Like Princes of a mighty land
Across the world in rows they stand.

But now in cold they shiver so
Like ragged beggars in a row—
Without a cloak in wind and snow.

***

Firwood, by John Clare

The fir trees taper into twigs and wear
The rich blue green of summer all the year,
Softening the roughest tempest almost calm
And offering shelte