January

 

This January already seems long to me. But it is pretty at times, like above on the Rancocas Creek in South Jersey. Seems a perfect time for some poetry from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Here is the January stanza from his work The Poet's Calendar. Click to enlarge.

                                                    January

"Janus am I; oldest of potentates; 

Forward I look, and backward, and below 
I count, as god of avenues and gates, 
The years that through my portals come and go. 
I block the roads, and drift the fields with snow; 
I chase the wild-fowl from the frozen fen; 
My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow, 
My fires light up the hearths and hearts of men."