Morning Poem, December 19, 2015

Winter Day

 

That night he awoke and saw a half moon amid long, white clouds

That had soaked up the moonlight and themselves glowed in the night sky

Like soft, white firelogs

Like luminous dirigibles

There was snow in the grass, not much more than a heavy frost

And it, just like the clouds, made the moonlight its own.

.

It the morning he walked out into the first day of winter

The grey and black of late autumn gone

And the sky cold, bright blue

And the snow in the grass

And the biting breeze

.

And he thought of old Christmas

And of coasting down steep hillsides on an orange disk

And running home

Soaked outside with melted snow and inside with sweat.

.

And he longed for a letter from some long neglected friend

And for the old music, the cornier, the better

And for lights, red and blue

 

Copyright 2015

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3 Responses to Morning Poem, December 19, 2015

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