2018

of 2018

only a few hours remain—

empty riverbed

Poinsettia

Close to New Year’s Eve

my neighbor’s poinsettia

still holds all its leaves.

On a snowy bench

an old woman sits, weeping

for all she has lost.

Near December’s end

a milkweed pod bursts open,

scattering its seeds.

Last days of the year—

despite Washington’s shutdown,

the sun keeps shining.

From the great bare oak

on the day after Christmas

crows jeer passersby.

Christmas Day blizzard—

a homeless man finds shelter

in the church’s crèche.

last-minute shopping

on the day before Christmas—

my thinning wallet

six hours and counting

for the first snow to dwindle

into nothingness

too ill to travel

so I watch from my window

the first snow falling