New Year’s Eve —

these opening chords we welcome

with claps and cheering

snow so light

we second-guess ourselves —

did we imagine it?

amazing how strong

the will to forget can be —

I erase a hole

snow in the forecast —

a chickadee sings close by

but I can’t spot it

forgetting

to set a timer —

baking by scent

long-awaited sun —

the looks on their faces

her favorite present

Meetinghouse carols —

we silently agree to sing

all of the verses

Trump Tower —

holiday sidewalk cheer

suddenly in shadow

last year’s card —

her handwriting

still here with us

while I’m gone

she surrenders, adding

one more string of lights

Solstice wind —

carrying the sound

of the day’s last train

long cold nights —

I welcome

your distraction

the first snowball

I tried to bring inside

to show my mom

winter tutorial —

hot chocolate marshmallows

by the handful

all morning

the sounds of ice

turning to rain

a tree glowing white

we follow the light like a lure

kisses for breadcrumbs

fallen leaves

frozen in place

still teaching us

powdered sugar —

decorating cookies

as snow dusts the lawn

near-freezing

water at the lake’s edge

gathering itself

the iron heats up —

I work to smooth the edge

from my voice

cold in the forecast —

our neighbor’s homemade ice rink

begins to take shape

its back to the wall

defending against winter —

red December rose

this cold black night —

we draw new constellations

with our eyes

walking home to you

by the light of the half moon —

nearly tomorrow

pink sunset clouds

reflected in the sheen

of yesterday’s rain

winter rain

filtering all the way through

to summer’s peach trees

while you sleep

I watch your lips

for my name

still holding a space

for a roofline long since gone —

our one-sided elm

(in honor of the original Friends' schoolhouse at Stonybrook)

with nothing to say

we call anyway, listening

to the other breathe

fewer leaves

with each passing day —

I call my father

Thanksgiving onions —

my son and I trade tips

on how not to cry

junk drawer —

just beyond the window

a magpie’s tilted head

this all-night rain

switching it up between

lullaby and alarm

woolly caterpillar —

so much slower to uncurl

the second time

since motherhood

all she can see in winter

are heads needing hats

like the horses

moving faster on our way

back to the barn

we are together —

how long we have waited

for each of these nights

front yard maple —

just big enough this year

to hold up some lights

at the edges

of each other’s sight —

trading smiles

day’s end —

only the clock’s ticking

to keep me company

saving the soup —

the work of not stirring up

the burned bits

sub-freezing cold —

no matter how we stand

the water finds us


(Thinking about the water protectors at Standing Rock)