December

December

Dark early mornings

Sometimes the sun comes out

And sometimes it gets stuck

Behind grey clouds

People are bundled up in down

Holding steaming mugs

It’s another day

Of Montreal winter

I never liked the winter

Hated the cold

The slush

The ice

But the first fall

Of snow

Always takes my breath

Away

A white blanket

Of fallen crystals

So beautiful

So soft

I forget to hate

My gloves come off

Fingers reaching

To hold

Delicate little figures

I am transfixed

And sad at the same time

In a few hours

Pure white

Will turn in to

slushy grey