My December

As cold as the coldest winter chill
Seeping into my haggard bones
I seek fire
Their January eats me alive
Then February, short and swift
Like a judge’s gavel
Descending, then gone
A loping deer in the rearview
March comes marching by
Left, right, left, right
An uncertainty unmatched
Except by mixed company
An April passes next
Spring thawing
Animals gnawing on food
Defrosted and freezer-burned
But tasting better by the day
As May follows near
A chirping bird on a branch
Spreading its wings
And flying into June
A beautiful girl with pigtails
Dancing gaily in the grass
As warm as summer’s breath
July continues the theme
Burning bright and steady
A car’s headlights on bright
Blinding in its ferocity
Their August takes me unawares
Stealthy and fleet of foot
A secret they share too late
Creative disparity
September eases on by
Indian summer in the air
She dances through the fair
Eyes ablaze
And then October, what a joy
As disparate as March
In its finest finery
Ending on a dramatic note
Paused in mid-air
Doing a pirouette into November
Whose silhouette stretches far
As shaded as a palm tree
So cool and dry
Then there’s my December
Short days and shorter nights
An impossibility that is
A puzzle that’s already solved
The perfect end
The perfect beginning
For what’s next

Until my December ends
And the cycle starts again.

Sam

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