December 31, 2013

still the old pull,
fifteen calendars later —
her missing mother

(for TK, MKD, and other folks missing loved ones tonight)


December 30, 2013

December 29, 2013

again and again
the water comes back to stand
in the old places


December 28, 2013

their big girl’s birthday —
my parents tell baby stories
one more time


December 27, 2013

winter night —
all through the house the whisper
of pages turning


December 26, 2013

a promise to help
followed by the knowledge —
some things can’t be helped

(for you, SM)

December 25, 2013

on top of the tree —
the memory of the star
we lost in the flood


December 24, 2013

slow down enough and
we can see individual
snowflakes as they fall


December 23, 2013

December 22, 2013

early thaw —
the front yard bunny’s hop
has an extra spring


December 21, 2013

feeling sure at last
that the tide is coming in —
the longest night


December 20, 2013

making up the beds,
preparing for the solstice...
we switch to flannel


December 19, 2013

December 18, 2013

December 17, 2013

tonight’s moon
so full it seems almost
ready to divide


December 16, 2013

seeing it at last —
my profile in my son’s
as he stands to sing




December 15, 2013

starting at the ends
we work towards each other —
driveway shoveling


December 14, 2013

ice on the world
the shimmer and shine of it
beautiful danger


December 13, 2013


mid-December light —
the frayed edges of our days
as they grow shorter


December 12, 2013


just below the dam
the last unfrozen water
gathering geese


December 11, 2013

snow on the dogwood
glimpsed for just a moment
mistaken for blossoms


December 10, 2013


all day we carry
the feeling of the slow glide
before the crash

(for N.D., who thankfully didn’t crash after all)



December 09, 2013


temporary thaw —
the sound of ice releasing
its grip on the roof


December 08, 2013


the pent up pressure
of tears held forcibly back
winter gratitude


December 07, 2013


warming my fingers
by turning biscotti
early December


December 06, 2013


late night rain storm
each puddle its own little
chorus of welcome


December 05, 2013

the whole line of us
ensnared by morning fog
no longer struggling



December 04, 2013


a raccoon
stopped forever by the road
graceful even now


December 03, 2013


a pair of blue gloves
still in your coat pockets
from our last winter


December 02, 2013


he somehow misses
the every-night lullabye
back to square one


December 01, 2013


the beautiful arc
of my sister’s unwanted
pie crust