A full moon shines
over the morning frost;
the lanes are full of late-fallen leaves;
walking across the mulch
is almost as tricky
as treading over ice.
In town the carol-singers are in
crowding the shopping-mall,
while a group of muffled musicians
play by the outside market.
This year but two robins
on the early Christmas cards;
the squirrel still runs along the fence
skirting our newly-erected shed.
This poem first appeared in the UK magazine, The Seventh Quarry.
Used here with the author’s permission.