there was nothing to see in her but the ebb and flow of creation, only the transcendent sweep of being and living in the careless fold of flesh from shoulder-bone to elbow.
It was sudden.
Slow and cautious it crept
its frosted winds at bay
slithering against steel and cool wet cement.
Arriving so quickly one morning,
a fanciful end to a long and slow fall
in and out of dreams
winding, waiting, careful in its ascent to power
The throne! There! It sits!
for december’s reign —
thirty one days