Thirty-one

frozen pipes -        
cinnamon tea
burns my tongue

Thirty

winter wind     whips my weary face

Twenty-nine

no lights

or garland swags,

but this snow

and the crowds

on the streets of Chicago

remind me of

Christmas

Twenty-eight

playing catch-up
to the tune of the space heater -
two a.m.

Twenty-seven

writing in bed    my left hand falls asleep

Twenty-six

I curse the alarm. The sun also rises.

Twenty-five

I managed to refrain from telling the child's father (a talking lamp) that the tiny pizza shop was not a public park.

Twenty-four

tree branch    a dead berry refuses to fall

Twenty-three

I feel like part of a herd     Monday morning commute

Twenty-two

in bed, the cat is between us          and my love smiles

Twenty-one

In his presence,
I beam.

Twenty

In the early morning snowfall,
A great loneliness.

Nineteen

Forgive
written on the sidewalk.

Eighteen

How fortunate!
A lost sock
Pulled from under
the bed by
My cat.

Seventeen

Artful dodgers, city pigeons.

Sixteen

On the couch with the flu:
Oh, that must be Death at the door.
Let him in, will you?

Fifteen

In the tall, bare branches,

Ten blackbirds.

Although more than that

Fly off,

Leaving two.

Fourteen

Walking home from work, there is still a bit of light.

Thirteen

within minutes

a new plan,

a new life

Twelve

Inside my home,

I hear the sound of a bell

On the outside.

Eleven

my neighbor's roof holding up the sky

Ten

pushing through the blue,

the moon

Nine

the church bell chimed six PM

a dog ran across the street

black coat

red collar

Eight

The moon hangs on by a toenail.

Seven

6 AM:

The toenail moon makes no effort

To leave.

Six

My old black cat lies on the kitchen floor, in front of the furnace. I hope my golden years are as warm.

Five

After three drinks,

My tongue can’t find the straw.

Lightweight.

Four

This cold air picks 

At the center of my forehead,

Pick, pick, pick!

Three

Sparse snowfall, like someone randomly spitting off a rooftop.

Two

Winter wind stirs dead flowers,

Trying to work some magic.

One

New Year's Day -
The homeless man speaks,
But no one listens.