I would choose, "Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin/ And still allows some stirring down within." Makes me think of the human nervous system with the activation internal while in a freeze state. Yet I have to wonder how many of us are now inspired to write a poem with the line or title "Quotable line from poem."
Breathtaking, nonstop delight. Wilber has never been "difficult." Only superb.
This poem feels like someone standing quietly at the edge of a year, sensing how fragile time really is.
Wilbur gathers these frozen moments leaves, ferns, ancient bodies, a small dog as if he were touching the world’s tenderness with bare hands.
There’s a deep ache in how he sees life paused mid‑gesture, caught between motion and stillness.
He reminds us that endings rarely shout; they arrive softly, like snow settling on a window.
The people of Pompeii feel heartbreakingly close, frozen in the middle of hopes they thought they’d finish tomorrow.
The line about waiting for “another sun” hurts because we all postpone the life we mean to live.
The poem gently exposes how easily we drift forward without truly shaping our days.
Even the muffled applause feels like a distant echo of joy we’re always slightly late to catch.
Wilbur invites us to pause, to feel the weight of our own unfinished moments without guilt.
And in that pause, he offers a quiet truth: winter asks us not to hurry, but to wake up to our lives.
Exquisite and inspiring. I type-oed inspirititing, and realized this too works. Happy New Year all.
I would choose, "Like frozen-over lakes whose ice is thin/ And still allows some stirring down within." Makes me think of the human nervous system with the activation internal while in a freeze state. Yet I have to wonder how many of us are now inspired to write a poem with the line or title "Quotable line from poem."
Amazing imagery. Wilbur is the master