by on December 25, 2022 :: 1 comment

Darkness descends upon these hills like tides turning on themselves
moving hypnotical fooling ticking clocks hours are long,
one by one tiny homes glow illuminating coastal edges
blink and here it is – dark, non-fading into, simply dark
not like night skies of summer breeze
but one more than just new moon shedding no lunar beams
to swim beneath winter’s swell, turning up its blackness
so she can wink herself here before milky way’s rash streaks
across doming these bending roads giving all of herself –
guiding December’s cocoon in twilight dream.
Waves of haves and nots bearing themselves so full of grace,
those lost in flesh yet found in inner places when fires crackle under candlelight
and her shine – north star, gifting, gifting. Sticky fingers purr, shedding cinnamon,
last year’s dust, tears of every memory held in rosemary wafts,
nutcracker stares a knowing beneath that tree glittering, the world’s best kept secret
lands with reindeer giving, giving, giving. And I hang my star.
Hang her high above these walls believe in all its joys each golden pleat ready to give its light and hold those giggles of Christmas mornings and eves past to greet their every changing growing light, 19, 15, 16, 12 years on their giggles giving, giving, giving. Hope that war will smother out beneath its darkness and sink, sink with power of giving, giving, giving as tides turn under full moon.

editors note:

Giving, giving, giving. Yes! – mh clay

Comments 1


    So much to unpack here, but before I do, I must say that the line that gave quickest recognition to my own memories was “ tears of every memory held in rosemary wafts” – so beautiful!

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