Those Winter Sundays. Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, Speaking indifferently to him, who had …
showed first 75 words of 692 total

showed last 75 words of 692 total
…looking back to those mornings that he did not understand his father and doubted his love. In conclusion, "Those Winter Sundays" was about the relationship of a child and his father. It was not until the speaker has grown up and realizes that his father's love was expressed indirectly. There is now a feeling of resolution as if this poem was written to thank his father and admit his own lack of compassion and communication