December

by Leo Wurgaft

​Of the barren
Of the frigid
Of the hazy
Of transitions

Of the wood
And of the fire,
Or of the lake
And of the briar?

Mist rising
From the ground?
Snow falling 
Without a sound?

Is it soundless?
Is it loud?
Is it not the absence 
Of a crowd?

Of the rowdy?
Of the overflowing?
Of too much,
Just too much growing?

Is it solidarity?
A chain, or else a rope?
Is it full of hopelessness?
Is it inspiration of hope?

Can’t we finally see each other
Outlined by the snow?
Even in the darkest nights
Can’t we still find peace in the stars’ glow?

Can’t the clearness 
In the air 
Let us breathe?
Breaths, you know, are rare

Does not the ice
Give us somewhere to stand?
Everything needs a requiem
Even the leaves and the land

Lest we cease to sing,
Our hearts need kindling for their embers
Thus we find it in the desperation, 
Clarity, and hope of December

Leo Wurgaft, 13, is from Amherst, Massachusetts. He has enjoyed writing for the majority of his life, and has loved Woven Word and the Woven Word family for the past two years.