About December

This, a December day,
Trying to become winter,
Layers quiet upon the countryside,
A mantle over howling strife
Taking over sanity, robbing
Goodness from my life.

But gratitude wells up inside,
Calm knocks and says, be still, and
Watch the chickadees,
They squabble at the feeder,
Watch lone snowflakes, languid motion
Floating from the stern grey sky,
Their lace gone before alighting.

I am weary of
Assault by poseurs, scheming bandits
Who will vanish into some
Post-election,
Post-trauma mist;
They won't matter after their allotted
Sound bites, furious pacings;
They'll be ghosts, just viral mendicants,
Figments of a cosmic evil
That flared and spat out bile,
Dared my earnest mission, balanced core.

Meanwhile soon our family will arrive,
We will close in around
Our own warm hearth,
Fall back into small rituals,
Of mercy, memory and creating,
And we'll watch
Our dogs and comment
How they romp like
Cousins on a summer picnic,
We'll make a trifle, bake some bread,
And feed appled fat-wood
To the fire.

This is all there is, and all there should be,
Breathing in this grey December day,
Watching as light changes, as
The winter solstice comes.
I say a prayer for joy,
A prayer for peace and fairness
As the hours pass,
Reflecting, I look through windows
To the back, the sleeping fields,
The western sky that rolls toward
My old home; I think, now time
To do some chores, bring in more greens,
Find the candles, shelter in, for
Soon enough will come
Another lift-off into night.