Taylor Brooke McCoy

Writer, Reader, and Person With Opinions

Evenings in December

We break from school and hope for snow to fall,

so icy sidewalks block us in. I shrink

beneath my blanket, reading bits of all

my favorite books. Outside, so lovely, blink

and miss the light on sparkling hilltops glow.

To smell the smoking chimney’s puff is bliss

on cold and quiet nights. These nights I know

the world is peaceful, nothing is amiss.

I’m taken in by Winter’s lulling spell.

It bids me sleep or watch through window’s frost

the death and birth of seasons. Changes tell

the tale of Earth’s millennia of loss.

Unnoticed years have passed in such a way,

and age dulls not the joy of winter days.

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