
december sits
in last year’s clothes
somewhere in the closet
patent leather shoes
and gabardine
woolen slacks
I hate them so –
you’ll never see me
wearing
gloves to match my scarf
to match my coat
barefeet stretch
into the cool –
boots along the hallway
bend me down a pair or two
will keep me here
til spring
winter winds
my story know –
talking through the window
frost the mirror –
tempt my soul to wing
dimestore pearls
and chapstick hearts
pictures crowd the mantle
proof of days
were seasons past the same
roses stand with brittle heads
bowed to prayer
for patience –
lacey lips are calling me
by name
practiced hands
deny the cold
to cup the fragile blossoms
breathed again a miracle –
as memory of the sun
softest hope
remembers now –
the promise of another
summer rain to save us
beyond december
comes
. . .