10 January 2016

We made it into January
where the skies are dark,
daylight fades even as it
arrives, and the cold sleet
comes, hitting the windows
with hard tears.

A city pigeon on the bare
black tree opposite
alights, the grey cast of
the town hiding the dove within;
small lights at windows
little golden pools.

In here silence and the clock
ticking .. the wet cross on 
my forehead a
lifetime ago, staring up
at rafters I do not
and smiling faces no
longer here

and our wedding, nearer,
a good day of
noise and people - I carry

many small lights
into dark January
and the painful picking-up
of my tools

into the place where
the road goes on, winter
darkness and stars, wheeling
heavens above mountains
and valleys rough
on the feet

girding the heart for
whatever I might meet
this year.
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