My White December
There’s no perfect harmony to the underside of a white Canopy
The brilliance of summer’s light
That made all the things possible
Has turned the cold stars.. Colder
This poem becomes my defense
Against my white December
Until I walk awhile
Tasting the cold crisp air
Passing a window with a faint glow
From the Christmas tree
Do I understand..
If I stand, in shadow- less silence
Everything becomes artistic and solitary
Brushed in a burst of fruition
In every shade of red and green.