December
a poem, month by month
December brings magic, yes—it’s true.
Magic for me and magic for you.
Laughter from children around a Christmas tree, soft music, warm drinks, and all the cozy things.
There might be a fresh blanket of white, or maybe none at all, but this month has so much more in its call.
A time for hearts to grow, and wounds to heal, finding glimmers of hope we desperately need to feel.
Traditions are celebrated, with new ones born, and kindness spreads around from door to door.
Houses adorned with lights, a wreath here or there. The smell of fresh pine and gingerbread lingering everywhere.
The year comes to a close, with the future bright ahead. Make a list of wishes, get them out of your head.
December is magic, yes—it’s true.
If that’s what you want it to be for you.









