The Sun hides and crystals that have piled up remain. Hidden or not, the mere presence

of his shy face sends the squirrels hurling down tree trunks and skittering

across the crusty surface of the snow. I have the window open and I hear them

scratching around in fallen leaves and scolding each other. My fingers are chilled

nearly to the bone but I leave the window open. It is a handshake between January

and me, making good on our agreement that as Time marches I roll

along with it, and together we will stump along towards Spring.

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019


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2 Responses to January

  1. Oloriel says:

    Wonderfull and inspiring poem, it makes me walk down memory lane and remember the winter holidays I would spend on the mountain.

  2. Thank you, I’m glad it brought back good memories for you. 🙂

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