Its night before its afternoon.
December is here before its June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?
--Dr. Seuss
Shout now!
The months with loud acclaim,
Take up the cry and send it forth;
May breathing sweet her Spring perfumes,
November thundering from the North.
With hands upraised, as with one voice,
They join their notes in grand accord;
Hail to December! say they all,
It gave to Earth our Christ the Lord!
--J.K. Hoyt
the earth awakens to the cold touch of itself.
Snow knows no other recourse except
this falling, this sudden letting go
over the small gnomed bushes, all the emptying trees.
Snow puts beauty back into the withered and malnourished,
into the death-wish of nature and the deliberate way
winter insists on nothing less than deference.
waiting all its life, snow says, "Let me cover you.
- Laura Lush, The First Day of Winter
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