December

Heavy sky offers no consolation today,

Clouds are cold and remote,

And sterile air hangs clinically,

Around the leafless trees.

 

No breeze,

To offer encouragement nor respite,

The red end of light’s spectrum,

Is gone with the absent sun,

 

Leaving blue to penetrate each crack,

Impotent to freeze,

It simply clings to living things,

Leaching each morsel of warmth,

From immobile, leaden, muscles,

Whilst evening slowly oozes,

Through the indifferent afternoon.

 

Soon, it will be time to eat.

The warm, easy babble of young voices,

Eagerly telling of school and play and friends,

Will fill this silent room,

Breathing life into artificial light,

Warming the night inside spreading,

Smiles that widen until,

The winter is forgotten.

 

Then, it will be time,

To put up the tree,

And to breathe in the safety,

Of its twinkling glow triumphant,

Leaving real winter outside,

Where it belongs.