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December Morning

Neebish SUnset

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where is the bleakness that some discover

In waves of arctic cold, undulating

into my bones then retreating

like ocean waves, waking every cell,

lifting each hair in my nose, on my arm

to urgent attention?

 

Icy crystals form, growing, living for moments

Bely the death knoll of winter,

Blanketing blades and stalks in the garden

Spreading over the dark soil before my feet

A welcome call to open my eyes

And truly see.

 

Dark silhouettes of hearty oaks and maples

Spread strong over a canvas of subtlest pink

Engage my eyes in a dance

A song of the night on my lips as morning dawns

A sole sunbeam changes doubt

To ecstatic revelry.

 

Birdsong sharp and clear as ever pierces

The subtlety, the art of new day

Transforms into joyous outburst;

Berry bush in jubilance opens with red

Rich umber soil of man’s birth

Teems with hidden life.

 

Fragrant curls of woodsmoke, a hickory tree in

its second life, blazing heat and light for man.

Softly falling snowflakes muffle sound,

A new symphony as glistening art-crystals

Drift down, tempting the tongue

For just one taste.

 

Does not all the world gasp as the first frigid breath

of December burns deep in the lungs?

Something of creation must break so we

May encounter life, an annual eucharist;

If then a death comes in winter, let us rejoice

In the life it bears.

 

Laurie Soileau Schlisner 2014

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