Late December
       

Clearly. Nothing much is happening. Kids continue to wish.
For snow. The rest. For something other than the possible.
Something other than the fog. Settling as thorns. Frozen.
On fences. Winter, in its subtlest arrival, barbs our barriers.
Still. No one misses the ordinary. Not even the blackbirds.
Just as no one, on either side, misses the end of the world.

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Copyright © 2011 Daniele Pantano All rights reserved
from The Oldest Hands in the World
Black Lawrence Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission