Winter’s Shy Light
Winter, you know, it’s got this kind of light.
It's not loud like summer, nor rich like fall, it's... different.
It's this shy light, peeking, barely there.
Like a dream you're trying to remember, but it slips away.
It's silver, kind of, like an old photo,
painting everything quiet and still.
And inside, right, there's this other light.
The kind that pools around an old lamp, all golden.
It's cozy, makes shadows dance slow on the walls,
like they got nowhere to be.
In that glow, everything feels like a memory,
whispering stories, warming your hands.
There's something about it being so rare,
makes you appreciate it more, you know?
You pay attention, 'cause it's not shouting, it's whispering.
Makes you look closer, listen harder.
In the heart of winter, light’s like a rare visitor,
leaves footprints in your mind.
It's this quiet, steady thing,
reminding you that even when it's cold,
there’s this little glow, just enough
to light your way.
Winter Lights
A snowy winter brings a blinding end to autumn's crisp darkness. The bare branches stretch hungrily toward the sun but instead meet snowflakes to envelop them until the land thaws in the spring.
The snow reflects onto the neighborhood and adds a soft glow to accompany the twinkling string lights decorating the buildings. A young couple walks hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, their love-drunk smiles illuminated by the rows of holiday decor lining the street. The plastic reindeer's red nose blinks and it tilts its head toward them as they pass.
Ten years later, children press their noses against the window to watch the sparkling ice crystals drift down and blanket the grass. Their mother finishes draping the last length of string lights around the Christmas tree. They light up various baubles along with the ornament that her youngest child made in school and the photo of her late husband. It's not much, but they light up her world every Christmas.
always
backseat of the same car
we've had since I was ten
we drive through the town I grew up in
and am desperate to leave behind
we look at the lights
tradition
snowflakes hang in the air with the very same
brilliance of a camera flash
artificial illumination stains the lawns
and it's beautiful
like always
but there's that pit in my stomach
that comes with the season
of knowing the traditions
and the performances I have to put on
to hide the pain of being home
where you don't know me
not really
not anymore
you can't see me
not behind the shine of that practiced smile
not behind the lights
astigmatism augments
and obstructs your view
like always
Before Disturbance
The orange glow against the pillowy white.
It's 2 am and the layers are only building.
You take a deep breath.
You can almost smell the crispness in the air.
The silence fills your ears.
You know it will be different in the morning.
Before foot prints and tires tracks.
Before the bright sun comes out and everything is much more clear.
But now you just breathe,
and enjoy the haze the street lamps bring.
In the haze,
you don't have to worry about life, you can just enjoy the cold air on your face
and snow at your feet.
Under the street lamp light at 2 am, life is quiet
and life is good.
Winter Light
Cast upon the snow
Shines a somber light
Soon the moon shall rise
Beckoning the night
Low lies the sun
Weary to the bone
Succumbing to darkness
A stranger to the throne
Steady reigns the umbra
All becoming shadow
Star speckled blackness
Casts a ghostly glow
Clenched by icy fists
A time of plenty quelled
Silence fills the land
Barren and bespelled
Winter’s Light
Maybe it's the halo
falling
from the streetlamp
the illusion of warmth
that it doesn't give
to the tramp
gathering
below in half-mittens
with patent shoes a step
too big for going out
and there's nothing
sexy in the piano grin
chattering into the hush
of snowflake audience
bowing down
in thanks
evaporating...
a mug of hot water
would really add
to the sparkle
of the sky
in a steam
reminiscent of
the pocked manhole
to the left of the street
I've got little comfort
in borrowed coat
but two bus tokens
rattling
beneath...
a piece offering
to my conscience
and we say nothing.
Springville? a chuckle
as the advertisement
pulls in along side
and the doors
to heaven
shudder open
we'll be warm
and sleep...
for a while.
12.11.2023
Winter's Light challenge @Last
Land of Lights
Every day with you, and tonight,
bring me to see the Christmas display,
it’s lurid and fun and gives us a headache.
With your cap pulled down low
and your collar turned up to the wind,
lead me along like a puppy-dog, I swear
I will skip on the sidewalk and grin like an idiot
just like you are my whole world.
My whole life with you, every night.
Tonight, the moon is humongous and yellow.
From what’s left of your paycheck,
you drop a coin in my two open hands.
I have nothing to give, except for
the hot cocoa you bought me, so
we share that and consider
a whole life together.
Relieved.
No swim practice.
No cold pool.
No suffering.
Still dark.
4:58 AM.
Outside.
Waiting for a ride.
Cold.
Not as cold as the pool.
Content.
Still quite dark, though.
A flash.
A hissing noise.
Firecracker?
No.
Shooting star.
Shooting star??
Yes, shooting star!
In the sky!
Close by!
Close enough to see bits flying off.
Passes quickly.
Takes a bit to process.
Lit up the dark.
Lit up my day.