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Poetry from the December 2000 Issue

Winter Trilogy

Daylight Saving

On a wet black day

Early morning traffic glides &endash;

Phosphorescent fish.

 

Silent Night

Alone in a house

At Christmas time, I can hear

Poinsettia pods clink.

 

Winter's Architectonics

Snow-covered branches

Standing etched against bright skies &endash;

A blueprint for spring.

 

&endash; MARY C. HESS

 

 

December Snow Storm

a white liquid stream,

a fall of snow

pouring through the glow of a street lamp.

 

flowing past my eyes

like a river

through a wisp of pines.

 

as quick as this frozen

river of white rapids moves

it stops!

 

one by one

large crystals,

glowing white neon stars

 

float

gently to their

late December bed.

 

&endash; D.C. HETZLER

 

 

Hit-and-Run

on the Road to Arles

 

Today Little Vincent draws the sky at night,

stars and moon over some nebular scene.

Dark dark blue, his sky is a little light

for the teacher's taste. Her skies loom

blacker than the gloom that pours

out of her mouth and onto

all the children's drawings.

She holds her tongue

and steps to the next child

whose name we will never know.

Back again, the teacher sees that Vincent

has populated his light night sky

with bright rounds of all colors

&endash; suns without rays.

Saying "Twinkle, twinkle, Little Star,"

she takes the yellow crayon out of Vincent's hand

and makes a five-pointed stick star.

Vincent thinks, but has learned not to say,

"Five fangs." On the next walk-by,

she holds up Vincent's paper,

points to the big bright yellow ball,

and explains to everyone

how the orange crescent inside

ruins it.

The tone in her voice wilts sunflowers

as she inspires Little Vincent to smear clouds

all over his starry night

with the black crayon.

&endash; ROSE ANN SPAITH

 

Previously published in Prize Poems 1996: Pennsylvania Poetry Society and The Pinnacle, 1997.

 

 

 

Winter is here.

Gray cap, foggy scarf,

White boots.

Trees dream

About waves

Crashing wildly

Upon cosmic beaches.

Trees dream about

Amethyst towers

And golden thresholds.

Sap sleeps

Under silent frost.

 

&endash; Mireya Blanco