Two Poems to End the Winter
Poetry by Philip Turner and Alexis Greene
Creature Comforts by Philip Turner ©
The tide washed over the driveway
Stirs in me a notion
How in such a live way,
Rain may play at being an ocean.
The asphalt sluice is shined a fluid black
While snow on the lawn holds one sogg’d rabbit track.
Snout wet, Noah sniffs the clue of rodent visitation
And careens in hope for a sign of the hare’s habitation.
My slicker betrays my pants
As wind offers water the chance
To ride a yellow slide off that turncoat
And land in my cuffs, making both a boat
Without paddle, mast or sail
And no one aboard to bail
Them out of their sodden immersion.
Quickly the scene turns very funny
When during a liquid conversion
I figure that for the bunny
This rain is really no worse
Than July’s dry and desiccate curse.
I s’pose that he will spend
Most of this day in his earthen hutch
But it strikes me likely that he doesn’t
Prefer his hearthside much
To a wet caper about in the weather.
My chuckle bears an odd reflection
On leanings we all share together
They’re called the “creature comforts” but that seems a projection
Off our mirrors and out of our fires
Into the lives of beings of whom we’re not the sires.
It’s no major quarrel and I’m not for a small rodent’s administration
But what does seem ripe for examination
Are the differences among us and the creatures.
Now wet socks and cold feet aren’t two of life’s favorite features.
Nor would I hand in my hot cup and seat by the stove.
Yet it seems all too-human a trait to languish beneath a drove
of foot-stool diversions,
Forever forgetting the mice, stray dogs, and rats of ubiquity
Who seek rooms for sleep, which we’d find shabby versions
Of our own soft dens of antiquity.
Doubtless, sleep is often gained at the price
Of poor blue blood turned to thin white ice.
I’m torn ‘tween grieving those unmourned, nameless dead
While sensing folly in black shroud over rodent deathbed.
Philip Turner
Philip Turner was inspired to write “Creature Comforts” while on a rainy walk with his black Labrador Noah. He’s worked in bookselling and publishing for four decades, as co-owner of a family-run bookstore chain; executive editor and editor-in-chief; independent book developer; and literary agent. He brought out the first paperback edition of Barack Obama’s Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance; and later worked on Writing with Intent: Essays, Reviews, Personal Prose, 1983-2005 by Margaret Atwood; The Politics of Truth–A Diplomat’s Memoir: Inside the Lies that Led to War and Betrayed My Wife’s CIA Identity by Ambassador Joseph Wilson; and Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda by Romeo Dallaire. For his blogs The Great Gray Bridge and Honourary Canadian he writes personal essays about bookselling and publishing. In 2009, he established Philip Turner Book Productions, an editorial consultancy and literary agency which he operates with his adult son M. G. Turner, author of City of Dark Dreams: Tales from Another New York, forthcoming from DarkWinter Press in January 2027. Philip lives with his wife, artist Kyle Gallup, in New York City. His website is https://philipsturner.com/.
Philip Turner: “Alexis Greene’s poem, titled “Love’s Mantle,” explores themes adjacent to those in my own poem, though in a different and distinctive manner. I believe she was moved to write it this past winter while she’s been dealing with an illness, and I think she sees this poem as a kind of valedictory statement of hers, about life and how she views the world.”
Love’s Mantle by Alexis Greene ©
Snow descends in icy flakes,
Coating the hills and drifting 'round lakes.
Covering houses and fields and trees,
Snow whitens the world as far as you can see.
Cold to the touch.
Wet on your skin,
Snow, winter's blanket,
Protects the life within.
Far beneath the drifts and mounds,
Animals burrow, cozy and warm.
All winter long they dream animal dreams,
Of running through grass, swimming in streams.
Digging deep holes is gopher's reverie,
While building dams is beaver's fancy.
Chipmunk sleeps with her store of food,
and skunk spends winter in a dozing mood.
Cold to the touch,
Wet on your skin,
Snow, winter's blanket,
Protects the life within.
Far beneath the coat of snow
Flowers and plants wait to grow.
Nestling deep in the rich, dark ground,
Seeds yearn for spring and the call to rebound.
The lily awaits a sunny day,
When the snow becomes dense, then melts away.
Lily and iris, dandelion and clover
Will reach toward the sky when winter is over.
And you, sleeping soundly in our snow-covered home,
Do you dream of spring and places to roam?
What do you yearn for, as there you lie?
How will you grow? Will you reach for the sky?
Warm to the touch,
Soft on the skin,
Love, the truest mantle,
Protects life within.
Alexis Greene
Alexis Greene is a writer and editor of numerous books about theater, including The Lion King: Pride Rock on Broadway, written with Julie Taymor (Disney Editions, 1998); Lucille Lortel: The Queen of Off Broadway (Limelight Editions, 2004); Women Writing Plays (University of Texas Press, Austin, 2006); Emily Mann: Rebel Artist of the American Theater (Applause Books, 2019); and Shakespeare Theatre Company: The History of a Classical Theater (Peter E. Randall Publisher, 2025). In addition to writing books about theater, Greene’s career spans acting, theater criticism, and teaching (she holds a PhD from the Graduate Center of the City University of New York). She is a member of Biographers International Organization, PEN, the Authors Guild, and League of Professional Theatre Women. She is a client of the literary agency Philip Turner Book Productions. With her husband Gordon Hough, Alexis lives in New York City, and also among the woods and fields in upstate New York. Her website is https://www.alexisgreene.com/
