Covered by tarps, boats are at dock.

No traffic on the river, everything at lock

Down, slowed by December's slow rhythmic turns.

Just sunlight on the water, and lone birds

Passing high overhead.

All's quiet on the Charles this afternoon.

No sailboats or rowers, no synchronized crews' tune.

Winter sun reflects on water, on skyscrapers along the shore.

The river flows, following hope to a far off door

Heading to spring.





Willows

A December afternoon, a chilly walk
Through willow trees.  A time to take stock
Of the year's passing.  Time winding down,
Months thrown around like leaves on the ground.
Few days are left on the calendar.

Summer busy walkways, empty of feet.
Just sunlight and seashore, a treat
To be savored before true winter sets in.
A new year is coming, the old one has been
Tossed away to memory.

Short days' rewards

Sunset is coming sooner, sooner.
Days are shorter, time turns lunar
Rather than solar.  But the sun
In contrast to the night to come
Blasts through my windows.

Night comes early, then stays late.
Dawn is tardy and I wake
A little later.  But come the day
And sunshine makes its way
Splashing across my floor.