What is it about January
that warms my soul?
A wondrous calm,
a holy solitude,
a glow of anticipation
. . . of what?
What is it about January
that's so inviting?
Early morning coffee,
burrowed under a blanket,
a fireplace,
the bliss and ache of quiet.
What is it about January,
with countryside camouflaged
in nuances of grey and white,
flora and fauna at rest,
stark limbs silhouetted
against lingering leaden skies?
What is it about January,
its own contemplative retreat?
Even with a crimson flash of cardinals
and beauty of berries limned with snow,
there's a bittersweet longing.
A fundamental yearning for Heaven?
