december morning

december morning.
I liked how the words flowed together
like the thin, cool light,
pale blue.
I imagined the frost
on grass,
white ice puddles--
no romantic dew;
no rosey hopes
just the crisp,
frigid air--and you.
I thought of dim sky
early gray-white
and water,
still,
or faintly rippled like a dream
blurring
before it clears away.
I can feel where night pressed
chilly fingers;
night mists'
white tendrils
curl back
to dips and shadows
and breath condenses
like a memory,
pale and cold,
of something gone.
december morning,
blue, blue...
yellow sun up,
melted,
warm, replaced,
forgotten.