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December #56
By John R. Greenwood
#56 approaches shadow like
slinking low in the dark damp night
this shivering grey man hangs on
tight and reluctant
fuel bill memories smother all hope of advance
snow drift dreams of broken snowblowers and dead batteries
and still
a ceiling stain lingers
a reminder of #53’s heartless ice dams
heavy and thick
fond recollection of #10’s five dollar lift tickets and deep powder runs
T-bars, rope tows and mom’s hand-knit wool socks
so...
with each opened tote of tangled light and shiny bulb
a fresh scent of balsam
like smelling salts
snaps me back
and I pause
silent
wreath in hand
looking forward to #57
John,
ReplyDeleteA most emotive piece of writing. I could sense your looking back...and with great imagery.
Best Wishes, Eileen
A fine poem and a really delightful read.
ReplyDeletewhat a progress.
ReplyDeleteinteresting thoughts.
Wonderful memories...this is beautiful!
ReplyDeleteLovely writing, John. It's funny how we remember certain events more clearly the older we get.
ReplyDeleteMy happiest (childhood) and saddest (adult) memories centre around Christmas, a bitter-sweet time.
Powerful images and such great imagery!
ReplyDeleteWell Done~
Counting Decembers is a novel approach to viewing this whole season. I read this aloud, and the center of the piece, with its "fuel bill memories," was amazing. Great write! Amy
ReplyDeletehttp://sharplittlepencil.wordpress.com/2011/12/02/the-day-i-saw-an-angel-fly-lyrics/