Poem about December without mentioning "December." Second in Senior Center Forum Contest.
|Twilight of the Year
In those few weeks, the year’s end,
Old Man Winter sets out his stall,
thanks the Fall with northern bow,
paints the fallen leaves with frost,
silvers the dawn with an icy fog,
and whispers of the freeze to come.
The first snow entices us with dreams
of Christmas scenes in Dickens’ tales,
fragrant trees with light festooned
and gifts of promises piled high,
thoughts of festive meals of plenty,
St Nick in secret midnight flight
above the children sleeping.
So to thoughts of times now past
and wishes for the future listed,
hogmanay and celebrations
turn at last the final page.
Thus the closing month of cheer,
now revealed as preparation,
steels our souls in memory
as hearts turn now to face the strain
of darkened days, relentless cold,
moaning blizzard and freezing nights,
the long, hard march till spring’s relief.
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