It has been November for so long
but I think we are finally passing into December,
into our winter.
I am heavy and tired.
I do not want to be naked
but there is not much left to cover me.
I want to be a frog
or a snake.
Slow blood in tiny veins
hidden away in the mud.
It is a long and terrible season.
Can we afford ourselves some beauty in this?
by keeping our hearts where the frost can’t reach?
Can we shed everything
and trust there will be growth
when the spring comes?