December;
Biting cold
Stinging regrets
A year's entirety
Lost in the threads
Of space and time
One more year rubbed from your life-line
Less hearts to warm
Less gatherings to endure
Tinsel glistens in the draft
Prickly pine needles stab
Dry, calloused, aging hands
The tale of Bethlehem
does not explain who I am
or where I'm going
Is it easier, knowing?
Every question answered as the wind's blowing,
roads and trees groaning
The end of the beginning of the rest of your life
We embrace with lists of grandeur
Resolutions kill
From the root
An autumn fade,
A crack change
Like we found all the chilling answers
to our silent questions
in the dead December air