temporary thaw —

the sound of ice releasing

its grip on the roof

the pent up pressure

of tears held forcibly back —

winter gratitude

warming my fingers

by turning biscotti —

early December

late night rain storm —

each puddle its own little

chorus of welcome

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

a raccoon

stopped forever by the road

graceful even now

a pair of blue gloves

still in your coat pockets

from our last winter

he somehow misses

the every-night lullabye —

back to square one

the beautiful arc

of my sister’s unwanted

pie crust