Last day of the year-
time to part with excesses
and celebrate them.

A sideways twilight-
two more days of December
then real winter comes.

The warmth of the sun
makes me forget December
is almost over.

The broken train cars
litter the field with corpses
of rusted iron.

The wind swirls dead leaves
into piles of brown corpses
animating ghosts.

The coming of night
with its dark blue wind in trees
smells of fresh dampness.

Triumphant sunlight
illuminates Christmas Day
with profound quiet.

Swimming in fluid,
I am sick on Christmas Eve;
a joyoux noelle.

The season for bells-
ringing clearly through bleak skies
some promise unknown.

Sky so overcast;
it's colder than expected-
birds seem hungrier.

Hope had no feathers;
it has sharp claws to remind
you you'll die alone.

To live lighter-
to be, see, and inhabit
much less space, is good.

My dog is running
through mounds of brown, crunchy leaves;
no idea it's cold.

The bleak sky is filled
with the sharp promise of ice
and eye-stinging cold.

The cardnals are back
making the dead forsythia
their home for winter.

I watch the moon drop
as I lay in winter grass
choked on my sorrow.

The winter twilight
is always more beautiful
than I remember.

The moon is so white!
A pale face in lavender
glowing hot and cold.

Bare black limbs are framed
in the inky blue of night;
the stars seem so close.

A little more joy,
a little more happiness-
I can pull that off.

The cold, twilight wind
blows the river into waves
of angry blue-gray.

I don't feel quite well;
excesses are catching up
with my broken heart.

the darkness again
has covered me like so much
soft silken curtain.

There is a moment
each afternoon when light seeps
over me like honey.

Sun fills the windows
making my skin enchanted
with heavenly light.

Red sky this morning.
A red sky last night as well...
what should sailors do?

I am so foolish
trying to make things happen;
I have to let them.

Rooftops smell of smoke
with their rising inky plumes
suggesting comfort.