POEMS

Our Christmas feast has passed.
Morning light reveals
A house returned to normal
Ornaments and lights,
Cloth of red and green
Now put away until next year
 

January morning light
Glows like the lining of a shell.
The year has turned. The light returns.
Though the trees are bare
And walkways patched with ice,
Spring seems possible.
 

Furniture of ordinary months
Re-ordered, in its place
invites the day’s work now, and I
begin again, settled in quiet joy.

(from Good Places)