December Quiet
The air smells of frost and woodsmoke,
and the sky is a pale, aching gray.
Morning drifts in slowly,
like a stranger unsure of the room.
Walking through the silent trees,
their branches stripped bare—
no leaves to catch the weight of the wind,
no words to ease its passing.
Light spills from distant windows,
but it doesn’t reach this place.
Only the sound of shoes on concrete,
and the creak of a season folding in on itself.
There are no songs here,
no laughter carried through the air.
Just the steady rhythm of my breath,
and the waiting silence of December.
Ooooo. I like this one. There’s a longing ache for the unknown future.
I’ve missed these…
Well… I’ll do what I can to make it through the month… 😁
no leaves to catch the weight of the wind,
Love that❤️