“Decembers”

Snow would wiggle

beneath our streetlights

when each December

seemed a miracle. I loved

snapping the kitchen shade

to find Albert Street icing

white. I loved hurrying

my homework to walk

with my brother and our dog

across the turnpike overpass

where miles of brake lights

and jiggling tire chains

made us wish for Christmas.

Our collie would grow

a slush beard as our words

turned to steam, then faded

as fast as the foot and paw prints

we’d leave back to our house

that looked like a gift

wrapped in white around

the porch light burning gold

into the streams of falling snow.

Edwin Romond

from Alone with Love Songs (Grayson Books)