romantic imagery
of cabins
in the snow.
No,
December is cold
and wet
and harsh,
but when experienced
under warm blankets,
against the soft skin
of a loved one,
December can be
a quiet respite,
a sacred prayer.
December softly
compels an accounting,
demands
a grateful response.
Days run out
the calendar,
hours run out
the daylight.
With certainty,
there will be
tomorrows,
and blooms
will dot
the near-naked
branches,
the chill will
escape from
these bones,
and I’ll await
December again,
trying to love it all
not as a memory
nor a mirage,
but rather
as a moment.
Remember it as a moment - I really like that idea.
ReplyDeleteLoving it as a moment, that is wonderful. Did you mean scared or sacred about the prayer? Am guessing sacred, smiles.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful and sensuous with a delicate quality. I like it very much.
ReplyDeleteVera
This is beautiful, coming from one in a rustic cabin. It really transported me to a place of poetic truth.
ReplyDeleteThe simple beauty of your poem falls like snow.
ReplyDeleteThis feels sad, nostalgic - stripped down to its barest moments, I do think December can be harsh. Yet you make it intimate as well, and somehow still soft & warm. The song evokes this same misty feeling...leaves me adrift in memories...Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteOh! If only I could do this. Anxiety gets in the way of appreciating and staying in the moment, now. Working on it! I hope you get some restful time off in December. I know I need that rather intensely.
ReplyDeletelovely, Mosk ~
ReplyDeleteThis is a soft kiss of a poem! Flannel sheets, wool blankets, down comforter ... early darkness and long nights. " blooms will dot the near-naked branches, the chill will escape from these bones," ... that is so pretty ... but for now the moment.
ReplyDeleteSigh - you outdid yourself!