As the Old Year Ends

As the Old Year Ends When the cold of December knocks the warmth from my skin, and the trees turn burnt umber and the fields cease their bright  goldenrod grins, I grease trays with butter, trim the mantel, light the fire, and dance to the beat of my heart's keen desire: that peace comes dripping, an icicle flow, that joy, like an echo, will follow and grow, that anger will mellow in the fire's red holiday glow, and that all who abide, hurting, will find [...]