Shawn L. Bird

Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.

poem- suspended December 15, 2016

Filed under: Poetry — Shawn L. Bird @ 9:23 am
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We are waiting.

The cloud reclines darkly above the lake.

The snow line drops lower.

The cold creeps and seethes.

Inside, bricks channel the chill.

Children vibrate, “It’s coming!  It’s coming!”

It’s so hard to sit still and concentrate.

Adults sniffle and cough, mutter, “Soon.  Soon.”

They dream of freedom, warmth, of sleeping in.

Christmas holidays can’t come

quickly enough.


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