I am an outdoor girl,
woven into the wind and weather like warp and weft.
December knows my name and has wrapped herself around me--
she sends me seven chills in sequence,
each seeking a deeper place in the bone.
Today I was a lucky leaf,
brown but blown under a doorway into sanctuary.
Even so, I had to sit on my feet to keep them still;
it was only icy roads and weariness that kept me indoors,
and my coffee was only half the comfort I thought it would be--
I didn't know what to do with the day
the way I know what to do with dark.
A friend called. She said, you needed to rest.
She said the errands can wait, like the hardy crows you consider sisters.
She's right, and her kindness made me smile
but ten minutes later I was swaying in front of the window again
as if I were one of the small bare trees on the other side.
Where are you today, my love?
Where is your voice, the only thing that can calm me when I get this way?
December is here, and knows my name,
but it isn't at all the same as when I hear it spoken from your lips--
no matter what you say to me,
you warm me as nothing else can.
Today I missed you from the moment I woke up;
I stood in a day that should have been a blessing,
watching the snow fall and shivering like a girl who hadn't expected to be alone.