December 3rd Sunday, for Me Two Days Late

But on time, I think, this month for its Facebook announcement: the Bloomington Writers Guild’s “Third Sunday Write” (cf. October 23, et al.). Any lateness on this post, then, entirely my problem — though then, one might note, I had had lots more going.

So that’s how it happens. And as for November, if there were prompts for it, for some reason I was unable to find them. And that’s how it goes too.

But now is now, so: December, 2023

This is what I love about winter

Well, yes, the snow,
the first flakes drifting down,
or with a bit of wind
settling against one’s face —
at worst, its still not rain
though the breeze, if strong,
adds insult to cold;
the sight of the wood, whiteness
now on the ground,
more swirling still, falling
against a gray sky.

The softness of sound, hushed
as echoing death . . .
well, yes, not all romantic.
Thoughts of feet frozen, flu,
shivering on porches
while getting one’s key out.

Of basking on furnace grates . . .
Warming, rememberings
of one’s true love —

Summer.