Of December


You start, for me, with curved red ribbon and candles

and darkness- a cold, bitter night, made

sweeter with life

holding on.

 

You end with champagne and hats, horns and music,

sometimes, fireworks-

and if we’re premature,

a kiss.

 

In between, it’s expectation and the delight of a

perfectly chosen gift- the taste, the

sound, the smell of blessings,

even small.

 

The magic of the northern lights and snow (for me),

trees and children with questions

I have patience

to answer.

 

The poor eating a few more meals and travelers

taken in more easily, gladly maybe,

the precedent heavily

in mind.

 

Yours is the crispness of life, different and quiet

but still there- awaiting the notice of

a passing eye simply, the

sly patience

of truth.

~DGS