As daylight hours wane

The evening streams blue shadows

Across glittering, freshly-fallen snow

And I watch in reverent awe

As the scene outside my front window

Transforms into a mesmorizing spectacle

Of tiny colored lights scattered on the foothills

Against majestic snowcapped mountains.

I nestle in the warmth of a blanket

Peering up at a tree filled with baubles and bows

A decade of memories both bitter and sweet

Reminding me that life is to be savored.

There is a paradox to December:

That in the midst of the darkest weather

Colors, lights, festivities, and joy emerge;

Yet in this childlike bliss of the season

There are those who quietly grieve.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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