Summer’s gone;
the leaves,
brown memories on the ground.
The southbound sun
cast shadows at mid-day,
later amber hues.
Winter Solstice, snow and pine
the ****** gives forth a child.
Air so crisp it bites
like an apple,
snow beneath the foot.
Orange light ascending off a building;
transfiguration,
day slipping into night.
A snow covered tree,
it’s Christmas lights
shedding pockets of color onto white.
Deep in the blanketed woods
the animals know nothing of Jesus
but feel the nadir of the year.
Our acts behind us
potential ahead;
so lovely this garden,
without apple
or eve.

19 Dec. 1989