In December
Published in
1 min readDec 30, 2016
In December half-dome dons his winter hat.
Mossy boulders sport icicle beards and a tree
encased in lake ice, lies
like a jewel in a museum.
In December the old are made young.
The seams and leaks that spring from half-dome’s belly
are frozen tight. The granite giant,
like an arctic explorer, is brightened by the cold.
In December a field of small boulders
caulked by frost, huddles for warmth.
Their summer rivalries left behind
until spring frees them.
In December words have more meaning.
Captured and cooled in the snow
like a blacksmith who dips hot metal
in water to make it malleable.
In December much can be learned
from Frost.
How his simple coating makes
a dead log sparkle in the sun.
