This is December,
Seeing one’s breath in the mist
In the midst of conversation.
Snow may blanket paths
covering crispy leaves, feet
Crunching on them with each step.
A fire may seek
The roast of marshmallows
And the oven, an abundance of roast veg.
Hugged tight by coats and
Scarves, and loved ones
Whilst ink darkness blotches the sky by early evening.
This is December,
A frosty cold permeates the outside,
But a loving closeness permeates inside.