Lawrence Beck
I enjoyed this poem, Fog, and I agree with its point. Winter does have its blessings; in your case, cheerfully-colored bottles lit up on a dreary day, in mine, the way the sun on a frigid afternoon still can warm up a chair in my living room.
2013-12-17

It's been very grey today, so I relish these bright colours entering my imagination, feeling warmth from their radiance and happiness to linger at the wall for some time to enjoy the scene. The reference to saints brings to mind the contrast between church wall and stained glass window, and although I'm not a churchgoer I appreciate the aesthetics greatly. Applause!
2013-12-15

Winter light in the Midwest is clear, and the imagery you've created shines brightly. The same vision come summer would be, at least for me, over bright.

The sense of history I get from this poem is very real. Walking my land, even after all these years, I still find the occasional blue or amber or clear bottle. It makes me think those lives were every bit as mundane as mine, but they had something I (we) don't, a kind of preciousness, though I'm probably being romantic. Life is life.

Still, the traces I leave, I can guarantee no one will pick them up and place them on a wall, and admire them, and write of them.
2013-12-15

Love the idea of the bottles filled with light and comparing it to stained glass portraits of saints. Your stone wall knows how to dress for winter and will also primp and preen for the coming spring. Beauty is to be found in all the seasons, if one takes the time to look.
2013-12-15