Not much to blog about today – yesterday’s gallop across the U.S. featured a Denver airport recovered from its snow and craziness from last week, and Boston was a foggy and misty, spring-like 50 degrees. It is December, however, so I’ll let the poet paint a picture of the waning days of a very old year:

The leaves drift toward the earth like ships to land,
A voyage launched from timbers’ great lofty berths,
Toward harbors safe, concealed from raider bands,
Of icy galleons coursing wintry dearth.

Squirrels don thick coats against Wind’s numbing dare,
Mount last determined searches ‘long the ground.
Brown grass conceals the season’s paltry fare,
As hopeful birds scratch for what may be found.

Through frosted windows glow the hearth’s warm light,
As fading day casts shadows ‘cross the lawn,
And grey meets grey as winter gathers might,
Undaunted as the chimney starts to yawn.

Farewell brave day as twilight draweth nigh.
Perchance on morrow sun will gather high.

The End of a Winter Day, by Dan Young