Anne Bryant-Hamon
© 1999

Warm December Winds

A warm December day by drifting seas
co-mingles in the shadows of the sun.
Now ghostlike are those rims of fantasies
where once there lived such raucous summer fun.
No voices falling on the breaking waves
or scent of laughter lingering in the breeze
to help these lonesome oats go find their graves.
Come-easy winter, glowing as you please.
Snow angels spread their wings on sugar sands
'til tepid water washes them no more
their halos thinned to solitary strands -
white pelicans now hovering near the shore
survey forsaken coasts of fishing sprees,
perhaps considering what has come and gone.
Are they afraid (as we) that they may freeze
when warm December winds find us alone?