Attempting a poem a week. Maybe some other musings. Always a work in progress. Satisfaction not guaranteed.

December

bringing greenery inside, the scent of pine
connecting hearth and earth
strands of light in the darkness

winter even in the mildest clime
spurs hibernation, contemplation
reflective surfaces oozing with sentiment

primal urge to find stillness
fights compulsive busyness
and flights of fancy

stillness will endure
battles lost, strategies failed
it persists within reach  

the month, the year, will end like anything else
with a slight pause, barely perceptible
before something new begins

At the Social Security Office

At the Station