two stanzas from "it's not about December":

I exhaust me

I hear wind before it reaches my hair

breeze sways my nightgown

trees shadow an orangey pale-pink sky

sunrise at the stable
blue-bright morning star

ice on boughs like crystals and diamonds on firs

shatters to the ground

splits my silence like bagpipes in Brooklyn

I stay, wait, hope

I go back to the manger

© Cindy B. Stevens

18 December 2018

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