The Perfect Hour

I really love this poem. it gets back to the basics of man against the elements. it does seem like a great option to escape, but home's home, right? at least for now.

Minnesota... I've never been there but I do have a couple of different friends from there... the land of lakes! One of my friends is big into fishing, but I know the winter is long and cold... too cold for me. I am in the Carolina's and it gets too cold here for me... feel free to laugh right at me for that...lol... I like the poem for its honesty, in that you are dealing with the sometimey weather but thinking about the more stable weather reaches, I do too... but, it doesn't snow or get quite as cold here as it does there... but, I think the land there is probably more clear of people, more natural, wild in the beauty of more untouched by man and his effect on surroundings... I would love that part of Minnesota... your poem had me feeling the warm and cold... Richard

evokes empathy for climate. Yet I fail to find a subtext, a larger meaning. As such it is just nice and well written. If I am missing something, which I often do, perhaps you could explain, perhaps I could offer some tips. Up to you of course. cheers, Jess Forever unwrapping the eternal present.

Your name seems Nordic- Edvold, if you lived here you would know the ever changing weathers, although in recent years we have long spells of heat and cold, we go walks in all weathers, the Norwegian children chant every they go out, " Det finnes ikke daarlig vaer bare daarlig klaer"=roughly- ther finds not bad weather only bad clothes" I allowed myself to show which word was which at the expense of the English. We are out in all weathers and if you haven't experienced the gentle summer rain pouring down soothing in its wetness, sweet smelling with the music of the leaves as each one acting like a xylophone, the birds start to sing, they never sing in hot weather here, and all is green, green, green. Or lying in a tent in ones warm sleeping bag listneng to the rain on the fly-sheet, ooo that's delicious, and sounds exactly like eating what we call Danish mints, as one crunches them between the teeth. And the sky ever changing, the damp clouds posing halfway up the mountains doing ritual dances around them, or hanging like troll hammocks in a long very slowly changing shape. No you can keep the places where the weathr is the same day in day out, here the variety is so wonderfully entertaining and pleasing to the mind, perhaps sometimes a little heavy in the head when it is pressurised but that is not comtinuous. We are never satisfied with where we are, or are we? I have quoted something elsewhere on this topic. We talk of the climate but not the 'poem' it seems more like a short prose essay than a poem to me, but then I am no expert on such things. Yours an of Norway

The wet weather is soon dried up here in the east of Norway not like the west coast of cotland where it can stay damp for days. I sent two commets and couldn't cancel this one so here i go again. regards Ann of Norway