This is the last poem I wrote before I switched all my focus over to writing longer stuff, and although we’re a little past midwinter, it seems appropriate now that the snow is showing itself.
In the kitchen we peel oranges, grapefruits:
globes like handheld suns, hurling
defiant brightness against midwinter, sharp
tang of citrus on laughing tongues.
Outside, December howls. Its steel mouth
will rend and swallow, and fill the void
with wind, with crackling stillness. Tick-tick
of snow in silence, each flake a star
that falls, giving no light, while dusk, eager
as a new lover, reaches impatiently for dark.